Encounters
by Tiffany
Summary: (Complete) UFOs want to hire the A-Team? Or use them? The Team stops at a small town for a rest and get caught up in the mysterious visitations.
1. Day One

Encounters  
an A-Team fan fic by Tiffany

Summary: UFOs want to hire the A-Team? Or use them? The Team stops at a small town for a rest and get caught up in the mysterious visitations.

Category: Mystery flavored with humor and a dash of the other-worldly.  
Spoilers: None  
Historian's Note: Sometime pre season 1.  
Rating: PG13  
Content Warnings: None  
Status: Complete

Notes: Thanks to my beta's: Sherry, the spellcheck-proof word checker; Alison, the character advisor; and Murdock's CrazyLady, the one person cheering team. 

This was something I started, had a long haitus, finished, posted on the lists but somehow managed to neglect finishing posting here. Late, but I'm correcting that oversight. 

…..Amanda: I felt like when you and your friends first showed up... I thought we were experiencing some kind of close encounter... I keep wondering if you're going to climb back up into your saucer and fly away.  
…..Face: (with mock pretentiousness) I promise that won't happen till our work here is done.  
- Water, Water Everywhere

A * A * A * A

Encounters  
by Tiffany May Harrsch

Day One (half):

The Middle of Nowhere

"When Hannibal said let's get out of town, I don't think he meant to go to the middle of nowhere, BA," Murdock groused. He took off his baseball cap to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand, then used the cap to fan himself.

No one was in a particularly good mood. It had been a long, hot, boring drive through the Nevada desert. They had finished a less than adventuresome mission in another nowhere town that morning and were now heading back to California…. They hoped.

"Man said he wanted to leave by a different route than how we came in. This was the only other road, so I took it!" BA hollered defensively.

Trouble was, they couldn't find the road on any maps, so they had no idea if they were even headed toward a main highway or a dead end. They had seen no sign of life since they left civilization way too early that morning. Not even a rest stop where they could answer nature in private.

"Can you two keep it down?" Hannibal asked from his accustomed spot in the passenger seat. "I'm trying to sleep."

"It's too hot to sleep," Murdock argued.

The sun had beat at them mercilessly. Miles of white salt flats reflected it back at them from below. The intermittent stretches of desert brown did little to alleviate the effect. It wasn't even good enough to keep the occasional scrub brush or cactus looking healthy. The air conditioner, set as high as it would go, couldn't sweep the heat away, nor the smell of four sweating bodies. The new twilight was only now starting to ease the pressure of heat. 

Murdock put his cap on, sat back and crossed his arms. "Even Billy can't get comfortable," he muttered.

"Doncha start, fool," BA warned.

"Aw, you know Hannibal," Face said, jumping in before they could start another argument. "He could sleep through a blizzard or on the face of the sun, if he had a mind to."

"And I suggest you guys do the same," Hannibal said. "We could be out here a while."

Murdock snorted and recrossed his arms the other way around. Face squirmed in his chair and tried to find a slightly less irritating position.

Diversion hadn't come easily during the drive. There was an on-again, off-again radio station that specialized in political talk. It started a four-way argument at about noon when they stopped to stretch and switch drivers. They tried the station that played music, it was sung in a language none of them recognized. That only got Murdock in trouble when he used the van as a musical instrument to accompany the singing. There was the static of stations that came tantalizingly near to reception to torture them. Murdock did his bit by swearing he could hear what was going on with two of them. They tried talking sporadically. Sometimes knowing each other so well put a damper on their best efforts at conversation. It had been late in the afternoon when Murdock's antics finally got on everybody's nerves, even his own. Which left the hum of a straining air conditioner and the rumble of the motor to lull them to sleep. 

"BA!" 

Most of them.

"What?" BA blinked at the windshield, surprised to find the dirt and gravel road coming to an end. No, not coming to an end, coming to an edge. "Whoa!" He jerked the steering wheel to one side to keep the van on the road.

"If you're going to sleep, let me drive," Murdock said, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice down.

"No fool's gonna drive my van!"

"BA, maybe we should trade places," Hannibal offered.

BA shook his head. Though his heart had slowed back down, the close call put enough adrenaline in his system to keep him up for a while. "I'm awake now."

"We all are, now," Face muttered. "How long do you figure before we find someplace to stock up. We didn't bring enough food for a two way trip, and we didn't get a chance to get supplies before we left."

"I don't know," BA admitted grumpily. "But we better find someplace soon or we're gonna be stuck out here. We're runnin' outta gas."

"Wonderful," Murdock grumbled and slouched further in his chair.

"I think I know just the place." Hannibal's voice was far too chipper. 

"You do?" Face asked warily.

"Yep. Marge's Diner."

"You mean you know where we are?" Face demanded angrily.

"Not a clue," Hannibal said cheerily, lighting a cigar.

A moment of silence was broken by Face sighing. He knew there was an easy answer, but he had to know anyway. "How do you know there's a Marge's Diner around?"

Face could positively hear Hannibal grin around the cigar. "Easy kid. I just read the sign. 'Marge's Diner Next Exit'. Had a cute little flying saucer next to it."

This perked Murdock up. "Flying saucer? As in UFOs?"

"Looked like it."

"Did you see the town's name, Colonel?"

"Sorry, I didn't catch it," Hannibal said just as the headlights lit up the reflectors of the welcome sign.

Welcome to Merlott

Home of the Benevolent UFOs

Look Up!

Marge's Diner

Marge's Diner was just off an exit better paved than the road they had been following all day. It was a combination diner, gas and diesel station, truck stop and gift shop. The large parking lot and gas station was well paved. Even though only half the lamps were on, it was surprisingly well lit. Stargazing in the immediate vicinity would be a difficult venture.

The restaurant itself was a single story building that could easily have been a warehouse with a wall of windows. Although half the building was darkened, the windows were lit with gaudy shapes of flying saucers, stars and half moons. Half the shapes blinked, and not all in the same rhythm. Marge's Diner would have fit in well in Reno, and seemed terribly out of place out in the middle of nowhere.

BA pulled up to the gas station. Face had the sliding door open before the van quite rolled to a stop. They were all becoming claustrophobic. 

Marge's Diner played host to a full-service station. A middle-aged attendant was at the pumps before BA could follow the rush to exit the van.

"Fill 'er up?" The man's clean coverall's claimed he was named Terry.

"Yeah."

Terry started toward the gas cap. "Windows and oil?"

"Sure." Ordinarily, BA would do all of the servicing on the van himself. But he was tired, he was hungry, and he wanted to be sitting on anything other than a car seat. 

"You can go on in with your friends. When I'm finished, I'll park it and bring in the keys and bill for ya."

BA narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man.

"I know, I know," Terry said before BA could speak. "It's a little different, but it's the way we do things around here. We're a long ways from everywhere, and town council likes everyone to be treated like royal guests. Gets people to come back. Don't need to worry. You can see everything I'm doing from anywhere you sit."

BA glanced back at the wall of windows and his already seated companions, then back at the smiling attendant. It was a measure of how exhausted he was that he gave in to the peculiar ministrations.

"If I see anythin' funny.…" BA left off warningly.

Terry held one hand up, the other being occupied by the pump, and grinned. "Hey, no funny business here." 

"Crazy town," BA muttered to himself as he headed toward the diner. He noticed Hannibal chose a booth near the door. Face sat with his head in his hands. Murdock had his back to the window and was gesturing wildly. BA couldn't help the grin. "The fool'll fit right in."

BA wiped the smile from his face before entering. Wouldn't do to let Murdock see he was amused. He pushed the door open and nearly jumped out of his skin at the low noise. Instead of the bells that commonly graced shop doors all over the country, this one had a siren. It sounded like someone had tried to turn a police siren into an eerie Halloweenish noisemaker. At least it was soft in keeping with normal bells.

"Gotcha BA!" Murdock laughed. 

BA glared up at the usual spot but couldn't find the source of the noise. Stymied, he instead turned his glare toward a living target. Unfortunately it didn't faze Murdock a bit.

"Shut up, fool," he growled as he took the open space next to Hannibal. He was pleased to find a glass of milk marking his spot.

"You think you jumped?" Murdock went on as if BA hadn't said a word. "You should've seen the Colonel. I swear he looked around like he thought Lynch was going to pop out of every corner."

"You never know. Could have been a broken siren," Hannibal said. 

"'Course it takes more than that to wake up sleeping beauty here." Murdock patted Face's slumped shoulder. "Like maybe that pretty lady over there," Murdock added in a stage whisper.

"Hmm?" Face responded. He opened his eyes long enough to give the restaurant a quick look around. It set the other three into a fit of laughter. Face threw them a dirty look before returning his head to his hands.

The diner seemed fairly busy for such an out of the way place. At the far end of the counter three aging men in leather biker garb sat hunched in on themselves, talking in low tones. On one of the two sets of booths sticking out from the far wall sat the pretty lady Murdock had mentioned plus a man she was obviously attached to. They were alternating kissing and murmuring to each other. Stretched on the booth on the other side of the table was a little girl, oblivious to the world at large.

An older waitress stood behind the counter, wiping it down near the biker men more times than was strictly necessary. She smiled then laughed outright at one of the jokes they told. Behind her could be heard various kitchen noises, including the clinking of glasses and the banging of pots and pans. It sounded like someone was not very happy being there and was determined to let all know about it. No one paid the noise any mind.

Hannibal, Murdock and BA looked up at the siren noise of Terry entering the diner, while Face was too asleep to notice. The waitress glanced his way then proceeded to ignore him. The woman in the far booth watched him turn to the Team and sighed.

"Here's your keys and receipt," Terry said, setting both on the table in front of BA. "You can pay it with your dinner bill."

"It's breakfast," Murdock corrected, giving Terry one of his half smiles.

"Sure," the attendant said with a shrug. He addressed BA again. "Van's right there." He nodded out the window toward the side parking lot. There were no spots directly in front of the restaurant as BA would have preferred. But he could see the van without any trouble. It was on this side of a semi. 

"If ya need anything else, just holler."

"How about a motel?" Hannibal spoke up before Terry could turn away.

"About three miles that way, on your right." He pointed down the darkened road. "Don't turn down any of the roads on the left until you hit Main Street. They'll just lead you to fences telling you you're too close to military property and not to go any further. Place has been abandoned for years, but if I catch you trespassing, I'll still have to report you to the sheriff."

For some reason, this warning earned a tired chuckle from those listening in. Hannibal wondered if he missed the punch-line for some old joke.

"It'd be easier on you folks if you left town from the other side," he went on as if by rote. "Most people get lost trying to find the highway from this end. Just follow Main Street down. The exit's about half a mile from Marge's Diner."

"We're in Marge's Diner."

"One on either side of town on the outskirts." Terry shrugged at the bemused faces and turned away.

"Crazy place," BA muttered.

"I don't know," Murdock said, "I kinda like it."

"'Xactly."

Murdock stuck his tongue out in response to the barb. BA growled back. Murdock slouched against the window and pouted. Hannibal tried very hard not to chuckle at their antics; it would only make BA madder. He settled for a grin and people watching to keep himself occupied.

Terry stopped at the booth with the couple and held out a set of keys. "Here you go, Hank. All filled up. Everything's in fine condition. Sure you want to do this?"

Hank smiled sadly up at the attendant. "No choice. Gotta earn a living somehow."

Terry leaned against the table. "Yes, but…." He inclined his head toward the sleeping girl.

Hank smiled at the lady sitting with him, and gestured with one hand at the diner. "She won't be alone. And she won't be until we're out of here."

Terry frowned. "You find anyplace yet?" he asked the lady.

She looked at her fingers. "Not yet. But I have until Hank finishes this run."

"Don't matter," Hank said, his voice rising a bit. "If a town like this isn't safe for a kid, no place is."

Hank stood hastily, bumping a knee in the process. He turned to the lady, rubbing his knee absently. "Sorry," he said, getting his voice under control. "It's just…." He couldn't finish whatever he was about to say. 

He sighed. "I gotta go now. Love ya." He leaned over to give her one more kiss. He shooed Terry aside so he could get in to gently ruffle the hair of the little girl. "See you, kiddo." He kissed her forehead.

Hank straightened and waved at the waitress behind the counter. "Later, Sylvie."

"See ya, Hank."

"Later, Hank," one of the biker men said. He was echoed by one of his companions. The third gave him a thumbs up.

The annoying sirens played as Hank pulled open the door.

"Hey, Hank, wait up!" came a shout from the kitchen.

Hank stopped and leaned against the open door. 

A fellow with a mustache and goatee, garbed in dingy white, hustled out from the kitchen. He carried a stack of three to-go containers and an insulated cup around the counter. As tall as Murdock, but not quite so thin, he was hardly the stereotypical grease chef.

"A little something for the road," he said sheepishly, offering the containers to Hank. "In honor of your last run and all."

Hank gave him a melancholy smile. "Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it."

Jess ducked his head, embarrassed. He hurried back toward the counter and the kitchen. The clashing and banging never let up once during the exchange.

Terry waited till Hank left to call to the biker men. "Hey, Joe Bob, Billy Joe."

'Joe Bob?' Murdock mouthed, doing a terrific job at channeling Face. Hannibal shrugged.

Two of them turned around. "Catch!" Terry warned before tossing two sets of keys toward the men. One snatched the keys out of the air without problem. The other fumbled but managed to catch his before they hit the floor.

"All souped up and ready to go whenever you are, my friends."

"Thanks, Terry."

"Not a problem. Just watch the skies when you zoom outta here."

"In this town," said the spokesman of the biker group, "always." The silent one nodded vigorously.

Jess popped his head out of the kitchen door. "Lucy. Orders up."

The lady at the booth sighed wearily. "I'm coming, Jess."

Lucy stood, revealing the same uniform the waitress behind the counter wore. She approached their table, expertly balancing three full plates on her left arm.

"Who had the steak and eggs?" she asked, slightly waving the plate she held in her right hand.

"I do," Hannibal said.

"Blueberry pancakes?"

"That's me," Murdock said cheerfully.

"The double-decker with extra everything?"

BA eyed the hamburger with delight. That ought to fill him up just fine. He glanced at the others to make sure it was what they had ordered for him before claiming it.

"Then the Ruben must be yours," she said to the oblivious Face. His elbows were in the way of the plate.

"Hey, man, wake up." Faintly embarrassed for him, BA kicked Face under the table.

"Yeah, Face," Murdock chimed in. "Elbows off the table." He proceeded to pull the nearest elbow.

Face caught himself before his head, deprived of one of its props, could hit the table. He sat back and straightened up slightly.

"Huh?" he asked blearily, still not quite with them.

"Dinner's here," Murdock said, elbowing Face in the side until he was up.

Lucy tried valiantly to stifle her grin as she put the plate down in the newly opened up space. "Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?" She couldn't quite swallow the giggle.

"More juice for me, please," Murdock said. "And another milk for the big guy there. In the tallest glass you have." He glanced at BA, already digging into the hamburger. "Better make that two."

"Sure. And extra napkins, I'd wager." The hamburger was dripping big time.

BA nodded, a bit sheepish at having his mouth full. "Thanks," Murdock said for him.

Murdock, equally famished, prepared to dig into his pancakes. "Ooh, would ya look at this?"

"What?" asked a still bleary eyed Face.

Murdock turned the plate so he could see. "They're shaped like flying saucers. Look, even the whipped cream outlines the curves." 

Delighted at the new way to play with his food, Murdock cut the pancakes along the seams, then into more manageable pieces. He sandwiched some whipped cream between two pieces before spearing it. 

"I wonder how they did that," he said before putting the bite full in his mouth.

"Huge cookie cutters?" Face offered. He decided not to mention the saucer shape pressed into the toasted bread of his sandwich. He could just see Murdock getting the idea to save the slice for a souvenir or something.

He was dismayed, but not surprised, to find Murdock 'flying' the next forkful of pancake and whipped cream toward his mouth, complete with a decent imitation of the diner's door siren.

"Murdock…." Face groaned.

"What?" Murdock asked innocently. If Murdock was aware of the looks he garnered from the waitress behind the counter and one of biker guys, he didn't show any sign of it.

Lucy returned with their drinks and extra napkins and a raised brow. Face shook his head slightly, hoping she wouldn't ask. Thankfully, she didn't.

"Lucy," Jess called over the racket from the kitchen. "Order's up."

Shaking her head, Lucy retrieved the orders. She set them both down at her booth and joined Terry in his dinner.

Face glanced back at the pretty waitress. She was trying not to look their way. He turned and looked at Murdock. 

Murdock looked from BA to Face and back. "What?" he asked again.

"Shut up and eat your supper, fool," BA commanded. He pointed a mayonnaise smeared finger at him warningly. "And no more sound effects."

Unfazed, Murdock went on with his late night breakfast. Thankfully, without the sound effects. But not in silence.

"Don't look now, but it looks like you've got a fan club."

Face disobeyed orders and looked anyway. "Who?"

"Not you this time, Facey. The Colonel." Murdock waggled his brows at Hannibal. Hannibal raised his brows back.

Face noticed the who - the waitress behind the counter. Though still chatting with the biker guys, she kept looking their direction and winking. If Face hadn't seen the same moves before, he would have thought the lady had a twitch.

Face hid a smile behind his sandwich. Murdock apparently misunderstood the gesture.

"Ah, don't feel bad, Faceguy. She's not your type anyway. A little too matronly, if you know what I mean."

Meaning 'old', Face mentally translated. She was easily Hannibal's age, maybe a bit older. She was well rounded in a not unpleasant sort of way. All her teeth were there when she smiled. But somehow he doubted she was Hannibal's type.

Unintentionally, Face pictured Hannibal with her. The image was so incongruous with what he knew of Hannibal that he had to laugh. He almost choked on his food in the process.

"You okay?" Murdock patted his back.

"Fine, fine," Face managed between coughs. 

"Leave him alone, fool," BA grumbled, placing the blame for the situation on his usual suspect. "Let the man eat in peace."

"It's okay, BA," Face assured him.

"It's not okay," BA said, clearly annoyed. "We can't even go out ta eat without this fool drawin' attention."

"Keep it down, BA," Hannibal said. "Now it's you who's drawing attention."

BA glanced at the 'matronly' waitress, then at Lucy in her booth. Both were looking his way. He narrowed his eyes at Murdock and grumbled into his hamburger.

"You think we can stop by one of the gift shops before we leave, tomorrow?" Murdock pushed his plate, nearly scraped clean, away from him.

"Why?"

Face looked at his half-finished Ruben, at Hannibal still working on his steak. Even BA hadn't finished yet. He had to wonder how Murdock could demolish his meal so quickly and still have time to talk.

"I want to look at the flying saucer stuff. Maybe pick up an 'I've been abducted' T-shirt or something."

"You don't honestly believe in all that stuff, do you?" Face chuckled.

BA caught up with Murdock in the food demolition race. He glowered at Face and Murdock both over his last glass of milk.

"Sure I do. I've seen one, you know," Murdock added, sounding unusually serious.

"Seen one what?"

"UFO."

"When?" Face asked, genuinely curious.

"Once," he hedged, "when I was flying."

"With the Thunderbirds?"

Murdock shook his head, his eyes directed at his empty plate. "When we were in 'Nam," he said quietly.

Hannibal looked up, and BA flinched slightly. They didn't talk about the war much, Murdock least of all. There were too many bad memories, too many things they would prefer to forget. It didn't help that being on the wrong side of the law, as it were, was a constant reminder of one of those things. Aside from using their ranks in conversation, and that mostly between Murdock and Hannibal, they had an unspoken agreement not to remind each other of the more unpleasant times of their lives.

"No such thing as flyin' saucers." Face was sure BA's assertion was more to break the suddenly dampened mood than because of any disbelief. 

"Sure there are, BA They just don't go as far as a Frisbees," Murdock explained, agreeing to play along. "And they usually break when they land."

"Remind me to only get you plastic dishes," Face teased.

"Naw, all they do is clatter. Now porcelain's light, it'd make more for a good long flight. And a nice satisfying shatter when it lands."

Lucy returned to pick up plates and offer dessert.

"We'll pass, thank you. Right now beds are more appetizing," Hannibal said, eyeing Murdock's wide yawn and BA's eye rubbing.

"There are rooms a few miles down the main road. If you see the other Marge's, you've gone too far," Lucy added with a grin. It was apparently a local joke.

"Thank you."

"Good night, then." She placed the bill on the table.

"Night." Hannibal glanced over the bill before handing it to BA. "We'll wait for you in the van."

BA mumbled something but didn't protest.

"Don't let the UFOs get ya," Terry called as they reached the door. One of the dishes Lucy carried slipped to the floor. "Sorry, Lucy," Terry said, sounding stricken.

The Team looked at each other, wondering what that was all about.

Face flinched at the annoying siren they were forced to activate as they left. Murdock immediately imitated it, only not quite as high pitched.

"Pretty good, Captain," Hannibal commended.

"Thank you, Colonel."

"We're going to have to visit one of the stores tomorrow, Murdock," Hannibal said around his cigar. "Might as well be one of the souvenir shops. We're going to need a map to find our way out of here."

A Strange Encounter

"I don't like being this close to a military base."

"It's not even active, BA," Hannibal said.

"Don't matter man," BA grumbled. "Still makes me nervous."

Hannibal flashed one of his smiles at BA's admission. Truth be told, the proximity to an "enemy's" location, even an empty one, made Hannibal wary as well.

"It's not the base that's making you nervous, BA," Murdock said with a loud yawn. "It's wondering if we're gonna make it to the motel before we all fall asleep."

"Going to make it that far Murdock?" Hannibal asked, smiling.

"Sure, Colonel. But as soon as my head hits that lovely bed…."

"Didn't catch a cat nap, I take it."

"I can't sleep when it's that hot," Murdock whined.

"If I didn't know better, Captain, I'd say the VA was making you soft on us," Hannibal teased.

"Might be," Murdock admitted grumpily, slouching back in his chair. "Least it's cooling down now," he mumbled, forever trying to see the bright side of things.

"True." The air conditioner wasn't up as high as it had been for most of the day.

"Even Billy's able to take a dog nap," Murdock added.

"Murdock," Face groaned, dreading hearing him and BA start up again so late.

Amazingly, BA didn't say anything.

"Might be able to sleep by the time we get to the motel," Murdock went on, seeming to ignore Face, though he didn't push mentioning his invisible dog. "When _are_ we getting to the motel, anyway?"

"Still have about two miles to go, if their directions are good," Hannibal said.

Murdock sighed. There was silence in the van for all of two seconds.

"This is perfect," Murdock commented, sounding decidedly more chipper.

A pause filled the air before Face decided to hazard the obvious question. "What's perfect?" 

"This! It's UFO territory. Perfect grounds for them to buzz some poor, unsuspecting, solitary travelers."

"There ain't no UFOs," BA protested.

"Think about it BA," Murdock continued undaunted. "It's a nice dark night. No clouds in the sky. No one around for miles in any direction. The only vehicle on a lonely road. All alone in the night, no one can hear you scream," Murdock said, mixing phrases that would one day be part of pop culture. 

The other three were quiet, unwittingly falling into Murdock's spell. 

Murdock went on, his voice low as if telling a camp fire story. "Then the travelers see a flash. Surely it's just a falling star. But then the car stalls. That's when they like to pop up and say 'BOO!'" This last was shouted, actually causing his companions, much to their chagrin, to jump.

"Shut up, fool," BA said, only half annoyed.

"Nice, Murdock," Hannibal admitted with a grin.

Face just chuckled and shook his head.

Murdock sat back, looking mighty pleased with himself.

There was a short, companionable silence. 

Murdock interrupted it with another whine. "Are we there, yet?"

"I have to agree this is a long three miles," Hannibal said.

"Man we past three miles two miles back."

"You get us lost again, big guy?" Murdock teased tiredly

"I ain't lost!"

"Well, we'll know we've gone too far if we see another Marge's Diner." Hannibal shook his head. "Kooky town."

"I'll say," Face agreed.

"What was that?" Hannibal asked, sitting a bit straighter.

BA risked a quick glance over. "What?" 

Hannibal squinted out the window. "I thought I saw something streak by."

"Maybe Murdock's UFOs," Face said.

"I'm serious guys." Hannibal's tone made the others more attentive to their surroundings.

Then the motor cut out.

"Aw, man!" BA slapped the steering wheel. He waited for the van to roll to a stop before trying the ignition again. Nothing. Not even the sound of a strangled turnover.

"It's happening," Murdock said quietly, awestruck and apprehensive at the same time.

"What is?" Face asked nervously.

Any reply Murdock might have made was cut off by a buzzing drone, followed quickly by a blinding flash of light.

The van's motor spontaneously cut in, rumbling loudly in the desert silence.

"What was that!" BA shouted, rubbing his eyes with one hand and gripping the steering wheel with the other.

"That," Murdock said in a subdued tone, "was a UFO, big guy."

"Did anyone make it out?" Hannibal asked the van at large.

"Are you kidding?" Face blinked hard and looked in the general direction of the front of the van. "All I'm seeing are spots."

"Told you they like to buzz strangers," Murdock muttered to no one in particular.

"Everyone all right?" Hannibal asked, surveying them with watering eyes.

"Soon as my eyes stop burnin', man."

"Same as BA," Face put in, wiping at his.

Murdock grunted noncommittally. He still had his eyes closed, not trying to fight the spots. "Can we get out of here now?"


	2. Day Two

Encounters  
Day Two:

Missing

The motel was another warehouse looking building situated on its own. The Team found it on the right side of the road as Terry said it would be, but much further than the attendant had indicated.

"'The Happy Hostel'?" Face asked, reading the blue glowing sign. It had a green neon flying saucer shape hovering over a pink bed. 

"I have to go with BA on this one, Hannibal," Face said. One heartfelt demand from BA was all that interrupted the silence which befell them for the remainder trip to the motel. "The plan better be to get out while the getting's good."

"After we've had some rest." Hannibal had no idea what the flash of light was or what had caused it. He just knew he didn't want a repeat performance. He decided it would be wiser to stay off the road until morning. At least then they could see what was going on.

He left them standing in the parking lot to procure them some rooms. Except for a single motorcycle, the place was deserted. Even the blinking flying saucer shapes looked lonely.

"This is crazy," Face muttered, letting some of his irritation show. He wanted to be in the safe confines of some LA penthouse right now. They only just got there, and the town of Merlott was already grating on his nerves. 

"Yeah." BA leaned against the van unhappily. He wanted to be somewhere else as well. He didn't really care where. Just preferably without the constant reminders of things not understood. "The town's sign shoulda said 'Home to the Loony Bin'."

"Hey," Murdock said indignantly. "I live there, remember? Believe me, the loony bin's never been as tacky as this." He was beginning to have second thoughts on liking the neon lit homage to UFOs. The incident with the light left him unaccountably shaken.

Hannibal returned with a set of keys. "We have adjoining rooms. Here you go Face, Murdock. We'll see you in the morning."

Hannibal tossed one of the keys toward them. Even dead tired, Murdock caught it easily and handed it to Face. The tag on the key ring – saucer shaped, of course – said they had Room 12. 

"Come on, Murdock," Face said with a sigh. "There's a bed calling your name."

"And such a sweet siren song, too." Murdock tagged along to the appropriate door.

Hannibal and BA stopped at Room 11. 12 was just past them on the corner.

Face wasn't at all surprised to find himself sharing a room with Murdock. He was slightly more tolerant of prolonged exposure to the pilot than the others. Besides, if Murdock and BA ever roomed together, nobody would get any sleep.

Murdock was the last one in. He headed straight for the lone chair without even bothering to close the door. Face gave him an exasperated look but decided not to make an issue of it. All of Murdock's energy seemed to have drained as he stumbled to a halt. He carefully draped his leather jacket over the back of the chair. He hadn't worn it all day; Face doubted it would be needed tomorrow either. Murdock kicked off his shoes, flinging them under the chair so they hit the wall with a dull thud. He lost his balance a couple of times in the process and came precariously close to tripping. Finally, Murdock staggered over and belly flopped onto the bed with a contented sigh.

Face watched all this with a bemused expression. It was a good thing Murdock hadn't tried to change. He was out before the bed stopped bouncing. And he'd forgotten to take off his hat.

"That can't be comfortable," Face muttered. The baseball cap was askew and looked like it was pressing into Murdock's temple. Face carefully pulled it off and set on top of his jacket.

With a wide yawn, Face prepared himself for bed. He opened the window for some cool air, set the clock - which was annoyingly far from the bed - and joined Murdock in sweet oblivion. He remained there until the alarm clock rudely intruded.

"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered at the offending object before he managed to stagger over and hit it off. He stretched and tried to remember why they still followed the army habit of dawn rising.

Murdock was up already. His jacket and hat were missing. Face assumed he had gone to join Hannibal, the other early bird, for a morning jog before it became too hot. Or maybe to go bug BA awake, Face thought with a rueful grin. If that was the case, he sure didn't want to be next door right now.

After he showered and dressed, Face finally felt ready to join the others. Maybe they had gotten breakfast already, he thought with some anticipation. He knocked on the door and waited for the familiar ruffle of curtains moving. 

Hannibal opened the door to reveal a tiny rectangle of a room nearly identical to the one he and Murdock shared. It was crammed with two single beds separated by a night stand with nothing standing on it. Against the wall opposite the beds was a short, long dresser. A lamp, a clock, and a brochure with the check out times rested on it. A thick, short chair sat wedged in the corner between the dresser and the short expanse of wall next to the bathroom door. And, like his own room, it was not occupied by the fourth member of the A-Team.

"Where's Murdock?" Face asked, taking a seat on the edge of one of the beds. BA sat in the only chair, currently in the process of lacing up his shoes.

"He roomed with you, Face," Hannibal reminded him.

"I know, but his bed's empty. I thought he came over here."

"Maybe he went to get breakfast." Hannibal grinned at this very desirable possibility.

"Man, he better not have taken my van." BA opened the door to a blast of already too warm air. He turned back to them with a puzzled expression on his face. "It's still there."

Hannibal slowly stood up, his grin fading with this news. 

"You don't think he tried _walking_ to the diner?" Face wouldn't put the notion past Murdock. He shuddered to think how hot that long walk would be.

BA shook his head. "The fool's not that crazy."

"No," Hannibal agreed. "But he might have gone to stretch his legs. I'll go talk to the office clerk and see if she's seen him around."

He returned a few minutes later, not looking very happy.

"I take it she hasn't seen him," Face guessed.

"No. The owner of that motorcycle was checking out. He heard us coming in, nothing after that."

"I wonder where he went?" 

"Did he leave a note?" Hannibal asked.

"I didn't see any." Then again, Face hadn't thought to look. "But I'll go double check."

"Good idea. BA, take a drive down the road a little ways in either direction. It's still possible he just went for a walk."

"If I find him, it's possible I'll wring the sucka's neck," BA grumbled as he left.

Hannibal didn't reply to the threat. BA would be pissed if Murdock went and worried them simply because he unthinkingly didn't tell them where he was going. But Hannibal knew BA wouldn't actually harm the pilot regardless of how mad he was.

Face returned with a glum expression. "Nothing, Hannibal."

Hannibal didn't like this. First the odd light show last night, now this. Granted Murdock could be on the flaky side, but he knew better than to just go off on his own without a word. They had survived so long largely by keeping in touch. They each needed to be aware of where the others were in order to watch each other's backs, to sound the alarm when trouble came their way, and to expedite leaving in a hurry without leaving anyone behind. 

"Face, try the local doctor's office," Hannibal said, unable to completely hide his worry. "I'm going to have another look around."

Hannibal had no luck finding clues to their pilot's whereabouts. The van pulled up as he was returning to the room. BA reported a similar lack of luck.

"Would you believe the guy was still in bed?" Face complained when they walked in. "Took me three tries to get him to answer the alternate number from the office's answering machine."

"Anything?"

"No. Says the last patient he's seen was a sick cat, and that was two days ago," Face said with a soft snort. "Since he was so hard to wake up, he even checked his pager while I was on the phone. Nothing."

Hannibal chose to take it as good news. Murdock, wherever he was, hadn't been injured, at least not enough for a doctor.

Hannibal chewed on an unlit cigar. 

"I know that look, Hannibal." Face's tone said, 'give'.

"I get the feeling I missed something," Hannibal admitted begrudgingly. "Let's retrace our steps since we got into this town. I might figure out what."

Hannibal sighed inwardly as he led Face and BA to the van. It wasn't much, but it was something to do until a better plan came together.

Getting Hired

The morning sun was succeeding in its effort to bleach the color out of the road and sky. It managed to make even the colorful neon shapes decorating the windows of Marge's Diner seem monochrome. Inside was pleasantly less bright and quite a bit more colorful. The gift shop was now open, revealing shelves full of a strange mix of UFO and southwestern memorabilia. Murdock, Hannibal thought, would love it.

A lanky teenager with a missing tooth replaced Sylvie behind the counter. "Help you folks?" he asked upon seeing the three of them enter. 

"We're looking for a friend of ours," Hannibal said, approaching the counter. "Tall guy wearing a leather jacket and blue baseball cap."

"In this weather?"

"Yeah. Seen him lately?"

"No, sorry," the kid answered. "Maybe the UFOs got him," he added with a grin and a wink.

"That's not nice," a young voice declared from the kid's side of the counter.

Hannibal leaned over it to see a girl sitting on the floor stacking plastic tumblers as if they were building blocks. It was the same one who had been asleep on the booth the night before. She frowned up at the kid, looking about ready to cry.

"Hey now, Sally," the kid tried to reassure here, "it's okay. UFOs don't really exist."

"Yes they do." The solemn pronouncement was accompanied by a sniff. She climbed to her feet, as if height might put more power behind her words.

The kid rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and tried again. "Naw, they're like, um, like the Wicked Witch of the West," he said, sounding pleased to strike on the idea. "You know, from the Wizard of Oz. Make-believe. Made up to scare you just for fun."

"They're not made up!" she insisted angrily, kicking at the tumbler tower. She only hit one cup, but the one acted like a domino. The whole structure collapsed with a clatter, sending cups rolling all over the floor. Sally rushed around the counter, nearly stumbling over one of the wayward cups, and flung herself onto what Hannibal had come to think of as her booth.

The kid watched the upset girl leave with a hangdog expression. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Hannibal wasn't sure if the apology was directed at him for the spectacle or the girl for hurting her feelings. 

BA started for the counter, a scowl plastered to his face. He took children's feelings very seriously. Hannibal shook his head once, a silent warning to BA not to interfere.

With a faint blush, the kid turned his full attention back to Hannibal. As he didn't look scared at all, just a bit upset about Sally, Hannibal had to conclude the teen never even noticed BA's reaction.

"Bad joke," the kid tried to explain with a sheepish half smile. "Can I get you anything to eat while you wait for your friend?"

Hannibal glanced back at Face and BA. BA had seated himself across the table from Sally and didn't acknowledge the question. Face nodded vigorously.

"The fastest breakfast you have to go." It wouldn't do to starve while they were searching for Murdock. "Three of them."

The kid nodded. He stuck his head through the door to the kitchen and shouted a code over the persistent back room racket. "It should be about ten, fifteen minutes," he informed Hannibal before excusing himself to go corral the cups.

Face joined Hannibal at the counter, taking a seat on the stool closest to the end. He smiled at Lucy, just coming out of the kitchen.

"You're here late," he said conversationally.

"My hours," Lucy replied with a distracted smile. She relaxed slightly when she caught sight of Sally, coloring and chatting with BA "I just got off."

"Then maybe you've seen our friend around since last night," Face asked without quite asking. "The one with the baseball hat."

"Who 'flew' his breakfast. I remember him," Lucy said with an amused smile.

"Have you seen him lately? We seemed to have misplaced him," Face said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Lucy's grin faded. "He's gone?"

Face shrugged and put on his best 'it's nothing' expression. "Probably went to do some exploring without telling us."

"At night?" Lucy asked softly, her gaze now fixed on Sally.

Hannibal and Face exchanged a look. "I don't know," Face admitted, confused at Lucy's reaction.

There was a haunted look in her eyes as she watched Sally choose another color from a crayon box. She blinked and shook her head slightly as if to clear it.

"I'm sorry," she said with soft sincerity. She wouldn't look them in the eye. "I'm sure he'll turn up soon. They always do."

"They?" Hannibal narrowed his eyes and watched her more closely. "People have gone missing around here before?"

"Yeah," Lucy breathed, her eyes trailing back to Sally. "That's why we're leaving." This last sounded more as if she were talking to herself.

"Excuse me for asking," Face cut in sharply, drawing Lucy's gaze back to them, "but do they come back… okay?"

She paused, considering if she should say anything. Lucy let out a heavy breath. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Look, all I know is that the last few months people have disappeared and shown back up, most of them okay except for two," she said quickly and in one breath.

"Two?" Face parroted again. "What happened to those two?"

"I don't know." Her fingers played the buttons on the cuffs of her sleeves. "Just that when they came back they weren't alive anymore."

The haunted look returned to her eyes. Sally glanced their way, squirmed uneasily, and returned to her drawing.

"Look, I'm sure your friend will be fine." Lucy tried to sound reassuring even though she looked as if she were about to cry. "Sally's fine. So your friend will be too."

"Sally?" 

All three looked at the girl.

Face stood up. "Uh, can we ask her.…"

"No!"

Lucy's strident tone caused Sally to look up. She watched them apprehensively for a moment before BA talked her back into drawing.

"No," Lucy said again, keep her voice down this time. "She's afraid to even go in her room anymore. She won't sleep unless there's someone there with her, and I won't let anyone scare her more!" She rushed through her words without taking a breath.

Both men stepped back to give her some space. Face put his hands up in a 'you win' gesture. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just…."

"No," Lucy cut in with a shake of her head. "It's my fault. I know you guys are worried about your friend. But.…" She stopped, closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

With a last gulped breath, Lucy opened her eyes again, appearing more in control of herself. "Look, I'm sorry about your friend," Lucy said, starting around the counter. "But I can't help you. We've got to go now. I've got packing to do and…. I'm sorry."

Lucy quickly gathered up Sally and her crayons and rushed out without saying anything more.

_ _ _ _

BA had taken a seat at the table the girl had fled to, intending to cheer her up.

"I won't cry," Sally said without looking up.

"It's all right to cry," BA said gently. "Everybody does."

"Even you?" She looked at him with wide searching eyes.

"When I'm hurtin' enough, yes."

She looked at her crayon box and carefully chose a color. "When you're scared?"

"Sometimes."

Sally, intent on her new drawing, fell silent.

BA watched the teenager who'd almost made her cry carry a load of cups into the kitchen. He nearly ran into the waitress who had served them the previous night. BA rolled his eyes at the wide grin Face gave her. Face was definitely feeling more like himself after getting some sleep. He even managed to sound as if asking after Murdock was no big deal to any of them.

"Is your friend really gone?"

The soft question brought BA's attention back to Sally. The girl was studiously not looking at him.

"Yes," he answered. He tried not to lie to kids. They had a sixth sense about them and knew when you were being untruthful in the same sort of way animals always knew when you were scared. It was a pity that sense so often disappeared after puberty.

"Was it at night, while he was in bed?"

"I don't know," BA admitted, puzzled at the girl's questions.

She stopped her drawing but kept her eyes on the paper. "The green men took him." This most definitely was not a question.

"The green men?"

She nodded, still not looking at him.

"Who are the green men?"

"They're bad people." She chose another color and started again on her drawing. "They like to scare people."

"Did they scare you?" 

Sally took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Did these bad people hurt you?" BA asked through clenched jaws, trying not to let his anger show. He didn't want to be the one scaring her.

"No," Sally whispered. "Just scared me."

She put her crayon away and closed the box. Still not looking at him, she turned the paper around and pushed it toward him.

"What's this?"

"For you." Sally risked a quick glance up. She shyly returned his smile before looking away.

The drawing was of a group of stick people between a sun and a lopsided house of the same proportions. Three of the figures were drawn in lime green, with too big hands and no faces in the circles depicting their heads. Two of them were laying down next to the sun. The third had it's hands up in a surrender position. Closer to the house stood three stick people with smiling faces. The one closest to the green figures was drawn in black, the other two in pink.

"These are the green men?" BA asked.

Sally nodded. "And you… making them go away?" She looked up with that insecure question, her eyes asking 'can you?' 

"I'll try," he promised before Sally's mother came to take her home.

BA watched them leave, barely noticing Hannibal and Face taking the newly vacated booth opposite of him. He wished he could get his hands on these 'green men'.

"That kid's scared of little green men," BA growled, finally with people he was allowed vent to.

"Green men?" Hannibal asked.

He pushed Sally's drawing over. Hannibal looked at it and lifted a brow.

"She wants us to make them 'go away'," BA said, explaining the drawing.

"And let me guess. You said 'yes'."

"I couldn't say no, Faceman."

Face sat back and grinned. "You mean that little girl just hired the A-Team with a drawing?" He chuckled, unable to resist teasing the big guy with the equally big heart.

The kid from behind the counter arrived before BA had a chance to reply. "Sorry they're late," he said, setting three to-go containers on the table. "Is there anything else I can get you? Drinks, gas, directions, souvenirs?"

"A map of the place would be useful," Hannibal said.

"And a couple of soda's," Face added. BA gave him a look. "Make that two sodas and a milk," he hastily amended.

"No problem. Be right back."

True to his word, the kid return promptly with two cups, a carton of milk, three straws and a handful of paper place mats.

"We're not eating here, kid," Hannibal reminded him.

The helpful teen chuckled. "I know. We get asked about maps so often they finally decided to print them on the backs."

Hannibal hadn't taken any notice of the place mats when they came in for dinner. He gave one a quick look before turning it over. It had the ubiquitous flying saucer hovering over a plain square building that claimed to be Marge's Diner. A highway ran next to it, with the 'Welcome to Marlott' sign on the side.

"Cute," Hannibal muttered.

On the backside, one road curved over the length of the lower third of the mat. Little squares with colored numbers lined the road on either side. There were a few gaps here and there, the most notable separating two boxes with the same number on opposite edges of the mat. On the top was a table of categories - food, momentos, special attractions, etc. - with correspondingly colored numbers listed below. It looked more like a map of a mall than of a town.

"Is Merlott really this two dimensional?"

The kid frowned, silently mouthing the words 'two dimensional'. "Oh." He brightened with understanding. "No, those are just the shops and stuff for the tourists. The back roads and the private residences aren't listed there. Small towns do like their privacy, believe it or not." He shrugged. "All the interesting stuff is on Main Street anyway."

"Thanks kid," Hannibal offered, fearing the maps would be little help in their quest to find Murdock.

The Search

They used the place mat map as a starting reference, despite Hannibal's misgivings of its usefulness. Someone had numbered the establishments in order of traveler appreciation. Both diners were numbered 1. Hannibal mentally marked off the one on the far left of the map. Number 2 was the Happy Hostel. Hannibal held back on the mental check. He still harbored some vague hope that they were overreacting. A quick stop at the motel, however, confirmed that Murdock was, in fact, missing. 

BA parked the van at a little shop specializing in coffee and ice cream. It was a fairly central location where they could start to case Main Street, working their way out. Face started at the shop. BA took a pet supply store up the street a few buildings. Hannibal chose the mechanic's.

Graham's Garage was number 3 on the map. Number 4 belonged to its next-door neighbor, the sheriff's office. This was the building Hannibal was most interested in. He doubted Murdock had had an early morning run in with the authorities. Considering their history, however, it was a possibility he wanted to eliminate as soon as possible. If Murdock had ended up in jail, Hannibal could stop worrying and start on the simple matter of breaking him out.

Their last job had not required disguises, leaving an unprepared Hannibal with one of two options: walk right in and announce his presence, or try to sneak a peek without looking suspicious. Since the garage was right there and open, he thought he'd use it as an excuse to get closer to the sheriff's.

"Can you _please_ try to be more careful? I'm still trying to clean the mess from the last time." 

Hannibal could hear the one-sided argument from across the street. 

"Lewis never complained before."

Hannibal approached Terry and a thick man with an uneven beard. They stood near a royal blue pickup blocking the sheriff's side of the driveway.

"My brother," Terry started bitterly, "never complained because it wasn't his truck to complain about!"

The bearded man took a startled step back.

Terry took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down. "I realize you need to haul your carvings from the workshop to the sales shop. And that's fine, Brandon. I have no problem with that. Just put a tarp or something under them, okay? Or better yet, wait till they're dry before packing them. Anything, I don't care, just no more of that!" 

Hannibal followed Terry's gesturing and winced in sympathy. It looked as if someone had gotten sick in psychedelic colors all over the bed of the pickup. The mix of colors stood out horribly against dark blue.

"Neon green is a great color," Terry went on, quietly picking out the predominant shade in the bright splash, "for a neon sign. Not for a pickup."

Brandon stepped back again, bumping into said pickup. 

Terry sighed wearily, suddenly feeling bad. "Here, take the thing," he said lowly, offering the keys. "I'll be by later to tow yours in again. Maybe we'll actually get it fixed."

Brandon snatched the keys as if they might bite him and hurried into the truck. He gunned the engine a few times before taking off, much to Terry's annoyance.

"Please don't tell me you need a mechanic, too," he begged Hannibal, wearily eyeing the distinctive van parked down the street.

"No," Hannibal said. He was about to add, "We already have one," when Terry cut in on the 'we'.

"Good!" Terry vented, throwing up his hands. He stomped over to one of the parked cars and jerked the hood open. "Because even I can't work miracles without the proper supplies!"

Terry stopped, hung his head for a moment, and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said with a groan. "I didn't sleep much last night." He turned to face Hannibal. "And I'm already having a bad day." As if to prove his words, the prop gave way, and hood slammed shut behind him. 

Terry winced. He tackled the hood again, this time jabbing the prop in tight.

"I'm not having a terrific day, myself," Hannibal said to Terry's back. He moved to one side to get a better look at the windows across the driveway. The sun reflecting from them made it difficult to see inside.

Terry apologized again. "So, if you're not here for a mechanic," he started, peering into the engine, "then what can I do for you?" 

"I'm looking for a friend, one of the people I came in with."

"Which?"

Hannibal moved to the other side of Terry. "Name's Murdock. Tall fellow with the baseball hat." This angle was slightly better. He could read the stenciling on the windows now. He couldn't see any further than the writing, though. It appeared the office was darkened. 

"He has a leather jacket with a big cat on the back," Hannibal continued, turning away from the sheriff's building. "Seen him?"

"Not since dinner last night, no." Terry gave him a sideways look. "He's not in there, though."

Hannibal didn't react to getting caught, he was too good an actor for that. Instead, he put on a faintly puzzled expression as if to say 'why would you say that?'

Terry turned his attention back to inspecting the engine. "Haven't even unlocked it yet," he said. "When did you see him last?" Terry raised his voice as he leaned over to jiggle tubing in the back.

"Last night when we made it to the motel." Hannibal was pleased to find somebody who seemed interested. "He took the neighboring room."

"Sure he didn't go sight seeing on his own?" 

"Positive."

"Thought so," Terry muttered to himself. He straightened and turned to meet Hannibal eyes. "I'll keep an eye for him, see if anyone has seen him."

"Thanks." 

"Where will you be? In case I learn something."

"Around," Hannibal said vaguely. He didn't expect Terry would have a hard time locating them if he really wanted it to. If he knew his small towns, before long everyone will know where they are.

_ _ _ _

"Were you out by the Happy Hostel last night?" the clerk asked BA as soon she noticed him.

"Yeah."

"Did you happen to see a dog running around that ways?" The short woman, wearing a pair of tiny bifocals, peered up hopefully. "Tall, mangy mutt? I still haven't figured out his mix."

"No, no dogs."

"Oh," she sighed. "I wonder where the ugly thing's gone to?" the woman muttered. "I hope it didn't go and do anything stupid."

BA knew exactly how she felt. Maybe Murdock and the dog were keeping each other out of trouble. He shook his head at the thought. That was something Murdock would say.

"You see a crazy fool in here today?" He didn't see any actual animals about, but there were enough toys to keep any pet - and Murdock - happy indefinitely.

"We're all crazy here." The clerk chuckled softly. "Which fool do you have in mind?"

BA decided he liked her.

"Sorry," she said after he described Murdock to her. "Wish I could be more helpful."

"Not your fault."

"Are you trying here for any special reason? Does he have a dog?" She sounded as if dogs were the only possible reason a person would come into a pet store.

BA snorted. "An invisible one."

"Ah." She nodded sagely. "Those are the hardest to shop for."

BA agreed with the clerk: they were all crazy here.

_ _ _ _

Face wondered if he was losing his touch. There were only two customers in the little shop. The elderly couple sat at a tiny table, enjoying coffee and sherbet, and carrying on a conversation that was louder on her side than his. It took four tries before he could finally get their attention, and then it was to get yelled at.

"You'll have to speak up dear," the lady said in a voice permanently pitched for the hearing impaired. "My husband doesn't hear very well."

Face took a breath and tried again. "I said, I was hoping you might have seen my friend around."

"Seen a lot of people in my day, sonny." The aging gentleman squinted up at him. 

"Be nice," the woman scolded him. She turned an attentive smile to Face. "What's your friend look like?"

The couple hadn't noticed Face standing right there in front of them, he doubted they would have seen Murdock. He tried anyway. "Well, he's taller than me. He wears a leather jacket with a cat on the back."

"In this weather?" the lady interrupted before he could go on. "Why?"

"Well, he might not actually be wearing it."

"But you just said he was," the man grumbled.

"He'd definitely have it with him," Face compromised, trying to be polite and keep his temper at the same time. "He would have his baseball cap on. He might have been out this morning. Or very late last night."

"Night," the old man snorted. "Kids for ya!"

"Oh, don't be a party pooper, dear," the woman chided. "It's all part of the show. First they'll tell you about alien abductions, then someone'll come and tell you all about the little green men and whatever it is they want. It's how they make their living around here. And it's supposed to be fun." She explained all this to her husband in what she obviously thought of as conspiratorial privacy. "Play along."

She turned to Face and flashed him a condescending smile. "Do go on, dear," she encouraged. "Were there a bunch of flashing lights and eerie noises when they took him?"

Face gave her a sickly smile. It was hopeless trying to talk to these two, they didn't even believe Murdock was really missing. He tried to politely disengage from the conversation, she kept trying to pull him back with ridiculous questions.

"I think I saw your friend."

Startled, Face turned to the voice. It belonged to the only employee.

"You did?" He was glad to finally be getting somewhere. "Where?"

The man made a 'come here' gesture with his head. Face hastily excused himself, leaving the old couple talking about what they might possibly see next.

"You know where Murdock is?"

The man gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, no. You just looked like you were need of rescuing."

"Oh." Face was too disappointed to be angry.

"Coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"Sure? It's on the house." And for the house. The man poured himself a cup. "That story'll keep them here for a while, the way the lady's going on about it."

"It's not a story."

The man nodded understandingly. "Friend left you behind, huh?"

"Murdock didn't leave." Face snapped defensively.

"They do that around here," the man went on undeterred. "Some folks tend to get a little too into things. I'll bet he'll get bored in a couple of hours and show up again."

"I hope so," Face sighed. He changed his mind and accepted the coffee. If the search kept on like this, it was going to be a very long day.

Reappearance

Searching the town proved to be an exercise in futility. Twice they got lost on the 'back roads' that made up the town proper. A large mangy cat chewed them out when they stopped to ask for directions. It's equally irate owner brandished a shot gun when they didn't leave his property quick enough. Other than the one incident, the townspeople proved friendly enough. However, they were singularly unhelpful in locating Murdock. Some joked that UFOs had paid him a visit. A few were amazingly serious about the idea. No one was particularly inclined to enlighten them about the rash of disappearances Lucy had spoken about. But everyone agreed "he'll turn up soon".

They slowly drove from one end of town to the other, finally ending up at the other Marge's Diner. They waited in the duplicate while a friendly waiter called the first location to see if Murdock had shown up since the Team left that morning. When that venue turned up empty, Hannibal decided it was time to return to the motel. 

Hannibal left a grumpy BA in the van. "Someone has to be in ear shot in case Murdock tries to call," he reasoned. "We'll try the doctor's again then come keep you company."

Face hustled into his corner room, not bothering to close the door. Unless he had problems getting in touch with the local doctor again, he wouldn't be there long. The room had been cleaned since they left. The beds were made, the carpet had vacuum lines; and the bathroom, which Face habitually kept closed, was ajar. Near the door was a sign that someone had been there after the cleaning person. Peeking out were the tips of a pair of familiar sneakers. 

"Murdock?" Face cautiously pushed the bathroom door open, careful not to disturb the shoes. He was relieved to find Murdock still in them.

"Hannibal! BA!" Face shouted at the front door.

Face carefully picked his way around Murdock. He was on his side, half curled to fit his long form into the not so long bathroom. Face knelt by his head and held his breath as he checked for a pulse. He let it out with a muttered prayer of thanks upon finding a nice strong beat.

"Hannibal, it's Murdock," Face called unnecessarily when Hannibal and BA rushed into the room. 

"BA, help me move him," Hannibal ordered. Face pushed Murdock up to a sitting position. Hannibal and BA each took an arm and half-carried, half-dragged Murdock to the nearest bed, leaving Face to follow the awkwardly moving trio.

Murdock sighed heavily and murmured something.

"What did he say?" 

"Don't know."

They finally maneuvered him onto the bed. Murdock mumbled something, louder but still garbled, when his head hit the mattress.

"Murdock?" Hannibal asked, just to see how close to the world of the conscious Murdock really was. Hannibal lifted one of his eyelids. He was pleased when fought the gesture. He wasn't so happy to find Murdock's brown eyes were glassy and the pupils dilated.

"Murdock? Can you hear me?"

Murdock's brows creased together. He blinked hard a couple of times and squinted at Hannibal. Hannibal doubted Murdock quite saw him. 

"Colonel?" Murdock managed to get the word out clearly enough to be understood. The slurred question was laced with confusion.

"Captain."

Murdock blinked some more, making an obvious effort to clear his mind and focus more on his surroundings.

"Hey Faceman, you're awake!" Murdock grinned with pleasure at seeing his friend.

Face frowned at the nonsequitur. His expression wavered from 'is-he-okay' to 'huh?' and back again.

Murdock didn't notice the changes in Face's expression, his gaze having fallen on BA by this time. His grin turned into the loony half smile he liked to put on when pushing BA's buttons.

"BA, you been takin' care of Billy for me?"

Murdock reached out to pat BA's shoulder. He succeeded only in waving air in the vicinity of BA's arm.

BA stepped back, nonplused. "The fool's drunk, man," he said, stating the only explanation he could think of for behavior that was odd even by Murdock's standards.

"I am _not_ drunk," Murdock said indignantly. His speech was becoming a little clearer. As he struggled to sit up, he added, "I haven't had anything to drink since, uh, since…. Oh. Breakfast!" Murdock stabbed the air above his head with a finger as if to point out the memory - or the flickering light bulb. Unfortunately, the movement ruined what little progress he'd made in getting up and his head bounced back on the mattress.

"And that was orange juice," Murdock said as an afterthought, with a silly grin for BA

Murdock made an attempt at rubbing his eyes. He frowned when he managed instead to massage his eyebrows. Not trusting his aim to try again, he pulled his fingers down to the appropriate spot.

"What are you guys doing here?" he mumbled behind his hand.

"Looking for you," Face said. His tone was one of a man who couldn't decide whether to be concerned or amused.

The answer was enough for Murdock, who acknowledged it with a simple, "Oh." 

He tried once again to push himself up. Hannibal and Face assisted him to a sitting position. Feet hanging off the foot of the bed, Murdock looked blankly at his Team.

"Where have you been, Murdock?" Hannibal tried. He wasn't certain he'd get any straight answers in Murdock's current condition.

Murdock pondered the question for a long moment.

"Captain?" Hannibal prompted when it appeared the pilot had drifted away from them.

"Hmm?"

"Where've you been?"

A wide grin spread across Murdock's face.

"Flying!"

To emphasize the point he spread his arms out in an imitation of a plane's wings. He lost his precarious balance in the process, and flopped back on the bed.

The sound of chains rattling alerted Hannibal to company. A kid in a red T-shirt sat on his bike watching the spectacle.

"BA" Hannibal nodded toward the still open door.

BA grunted and moved to give the Team some privacy.

The dreamy expression still plastered to his face, Murdock sighed heavily. "I hate being grounded," he bemoaned.

"Murdock?" Face started, taking over the questioning.

"Yeah, Faceman?"

"Who were you flying for?"

"Them," Murdock said simply.

Face was almost afraid to ask. "Who are 'them'?"

Face and Hannibal helped Murdock up again. Face kept a hand on his shoulder this time to help keep the pilot steady.

"Them. The UFOs."

"UFOs?" Face echoed skeptically.

"Yeah." Murdock somehow managed to frown and smile at the same time. "They want to hire us."

"Who does?"

"The UFOs, silly." 

"UFOs want to hire the A-Team?" Face repeated just to be sure he had heard correctly.

Murdock grinned at him. "Yep."

"Why would UFOs want to hire us?" 

"Oh, people missing, people getting scared, people turning up dead," Murdock explained. He waved a hand to encompass the town, narrowly missing BA with the swing. Face had to use both hands to keep a swaying Murdock upright. "All that's gotta be bad for business. They have an image to maintain, you know," he added conspiratorially to a fellow image maintainer.

"Murdock."

Murdock turned his head in Hannibal's direction, eyebrows raised.

"Who told you people were turning up dead?"

"They did."

"The UFOs?" Face checked.

"Yes."

"Murdock." Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder. "What did you tell these… 'UFOs' about the Team?"

The seriousness of the question penetrated through Murdock's haze. His looked at his lap, frowning deeply. Finally, he shook his head.

"I don't know, Colonel." He sounded both annoyed at himself and worried. "I just know they need our help."

"I don't get it," Face said, getting back into his usual role of playing along. "Why would a UFO want our help? What could we possibly do that they can't?"

"Same thing we always do, Faceman. Catch the bad guys."

"But the UFOs _are_ the bad guys."

"No, they're not. Kidnapping and killing isn't their style."

"But Murdock, they kidnapped you," Face reminded him gently.

"No they didn't," Murdock said with a yawn.

"Crazy fool," BA finally spoke up. "You were gone for most the day."

"A day?" This was apparently news to Murdock.

"Yes, Murdock, a day," Face reiterated softly. "Were you chatting with your UFOs the entire time?"

A frown flitted past, chased by another smile. "No. I told you, Face, I was flying." 

The furrow in his brow came back. He looked as if he were trying to recall something not quite pleasant.

"What?"

"It sounded wrong," Murdock muttered, still looking confused.

"What sounded wrong?"

"But it sure could move," Murdock said to no one in particular.

"Murdock?"

The dreamy look returned. "Hmm?" Murdock answered half-heartedly, eyes now definitely focused elsewhere.

"Let him get some rest, Face," Hannibal said. He pulled the blankets down from the bed. "We might get something that makes more sense after he's had some sleep."

"Man, Murdock ain't never made sense."

"Murdock makes sense in his own way, BA," Hannibal defended. "Now, give me hand. Face, go get our dinner before it gets totally cold."

"Yeah, sure," Face muttered as he left for the van. "Always the go-fer."

Hannibal pushed the unresisting pilot backwards. His eyes were closed by the time his head hit the bed.

"Do you think they'll let me fly again, Colonel?" Murdock murmured.

Hannibal glanced at BA, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. He and Hannibal pulled Murdock up a bit so his legs were on the bed as well.

"Sure you will, Murdock," Hannibal answered softly as he put the pillow under Murdock's head.

Murdock smiled at the reassurance. 

"Just not with me, sucka," BA added in a mutter.

"'Course not, BA," Murdock mumbled, a small, amused smile gracing his nearly asleep features. "'Course not."

His breathing evened out, save for the soft snores already beginning.

BA shook his head. "Crazy fool and your flying," BA muttered to himself. Anybody who didn't know him would have thought he was angry at Murdock for this particular passion. But the gentleness with which he removed Murdock's shoes and pulled the blankets over the pilot belied BA's tone.

"Is he okay?" Face set their packages down on the dresser and closed the door on any potential audiences.

"Just sleeping," Hannibal assured him. He dragged the chair over the free bed, which was now serving double duty as seats and table.

"So what do you think, Hannibal?" Face passed a styrofoam carton and a set of plastic utensils to each of his companions.

"No such thing as flying saucers," BA growled, but kept his voice lowered so he wouldn't disturb Murdock. "Somebody been messin' with the fool's head."

He glanced at Murdock, a scowl creasing his face. He wanted to get his hands on that somebody. The poor fool's head had been messed with enough. Trying to get a handle on his anger, he took a deep drink from his cup. He pulled the carton away from his lips, a disgusted looked on his face.

"Milk's warm," he complained.

"Sorry, BA," Hannibal said. "I didn't think to ask for an insulated cup."

"Here's some water," Face offered. "It has ice in it."

"Thanks," BA muttered unhappily. He took a long pull from the straw to bring the level down before taking off the lid. He sighed as he transferred some of the ice from the water to the milk. Watered down milk didn't taste as good, but it certainly beat out-of-the-fridge-too-long warm.

"I think BA's right," Hannibal said around a forkful of food "But I think they were trying to mess with all of our heads."

"What do you mean?"

"I think they took Murdock for the same reason they've been taking other people in the town – to scare them, and us, off."

"Not gonna work, man," BA grumbled.

"Not with us, no," Hannibal agreed. "But it sure is working with the other folks around here."

"The question is: why?" 

"Yeah, all they got here are cheesy souvenirs." BA's voice was muffled slightly by a mouthful of fries.

"And the military base," Hannibal pointed out_._

"If someone wanted something from the base, why not just sneak in there and take it?"

"We don't know _if_ the base has anything to do with it," Hannibal stated. "I do know that a town like this can't exist on its own. It probably came into being when that base was still active. Now it's a tourist attraction. Use the feature attraction to scare away the tourists and it doesn't even have the luxury of a well-used highway to keep it from becoming a ghost town."

"And you think someone wants to make it a ghost town," Face concluded. "Which still leaves us with the 'why'. What's here?"

"A whole bunch of nothin'," BA summed up.

Hannibal agreed. "Something doesn't add up. I don't like it."

"Well, that makes all of us," Face said exasperatedly.

Hannibal didn't say anything for along moment. The way he pondered and toyed with his food made Face uncomfortable.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm worried about what Murdock might have told them about us," Hannibal admitted reluctantly.

"I'm not sure I like what you're saying, Hannibal," Face said, his tone almost a warning.

"Yeah, Hannibal," BA added defensively. "Murdock wouldn't say nothin' to anyone about us."

"Under normal circumstances, no." Hannibal jabbed his fork into the remains of his food and put the container aside. "But there's no telling what kind of drugs they gave him."

"Drugs?" Face looked ill. He, too, put his food aside.

"You don't really think he was drunk, do you?" Hannibal asked skeptically.

Face watched Murdock sleeping. They had all seen him drunk before, though it had been awhile. Murdock didn't act like that when he was plastered. "You don't think they gave him anything dangerous, do you? Maybe we should take him to the doctor."

"No, we don't know who's involved in this. And it sounds like everyone who's been abducted have returned without ill effects."

"Except two," BA softly reminded them.

All eyes turned to Murdock, blissfully unaware of the silent tension of his comrades.

"We have to do something." Face broke the quiet with soft determination.

"We will."

"You have a plan." It wasn't a question. They had all seen that look in the Colonel's eyes often enough.

Hannibal grinned. "First thing in the morning, we're going to get to know this town better."


	3. Day Three

Encounters  
Day Three:

Questions, Not Many Answers

"Murdock." Hannibal tried to shake Murdock awake for the third time. "Come on, Murdock, time to wake up."

Murdock turned and pulled the pillow over his head. "I just got to bed, Hannibal," he complained. The pillow did nothing to muffle his whine. He sounded like a little kid who didn't want to get up for school.

"You've been asleep all night." Worried about the pilot's condition, Hannibal had traded rooms with Face so he could watch over Murdock. Aside from a light snore, Murdock hadn't so much as stirred during the night. "Get up."

"I'm getting," Murdock mumbled. He slowly pushed the blankets away and reluctantly sat up. 

Whatever it was he had been given, Murdock seemed to have slept it off. His speech was back to its norm, Hannibal was pleased to note. He sat up, then stood, without the slightest hint of a sway. His eyes were clear and focusing without a problem. 

Murdock frowned down at his clothes. "Why'm I wearing these?" he asked himself in a puzzled tone. He made a disgusted noise at himself and headed toward the bathroom.

"How're you feeling?" Face asked after Murdock showered and changed. 

"Good." Murdock stretched, hands nearly reaching the ceiling. "Starving though. Are we going back to the diner for breakfast?"

"Soon as we get to the van," Hannibal said by way of answer.

Murdock's arms flapped down hard. He tried to rush everyone out by holding open the door. "I want more of those little pancake saucers." He patted his growling stomach. "Maybe even have the strawberry ones, too."

Hannibal and Face smiled, glad to see Murdock's old self back. BA was equally happy, and showed it with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you remember what happened to you yesterday?" Hannibal asked once they had all settled in the van.

"Yesterday?" Murdock looked up as if the answers might be written on the van's ceiling. "I wasn't with you yesterday," he blurted, a bewildered expression on his face. "Why wasn't I with you yesterday."

"We were hoping you could tell us," Face said, concerned at the pilot's reaction.

"You were pretty out of it when we found you. What do you remember?" Hannibal pulled his trademark cigar out of his pocket.

"Flopping into bed. Then you waking me up."

"That's all?"

Murdock nodded. "Yeah, that's… Wait!" Murdock's face lit up at a sudden recollection. "I flew!"

"Flew what?" Hannibal asked, glad to finally get somewhere.

"I don't know." Murdock's sense of triumph faded. "I just remember the feeling of flying. Everything else is kind of…. vague." 

A shadow of fear darkened his eyes. "What happened to me? Why don't I remember?"

"I don't know," Hannibal answered honestly. "But we're going to find out."

"Got that right," BA put in definitively.

_ _ _ _ 

"I see you found your friend," Sylvie greeted them when they entered the diner. She directed a wide smile to Hannibal. "Take a seat. I'll be right with you." 

A small blonde head peeked over the counter. "They're back!" Sally squealed before disappearing again.

"You put those cups away before you go disappearing," Sylvie admonished. "I heard what you did to Devon. I'm not cleaning them up after you," she warned.

"Okay," Sally said with a sigh.

The diner was busier today. The three aging biker men were back, crammed around a booth table with two female companions dressed in similar leather garb. The elderly couple Face had spoken with walked out of the adjoining gift shop with three bags of recent purchases. They sat at the counter and proceeded to loudly discuss which grandchild would get what item. A trucker gave the door a puzzled look after being assaulted by the Halloween style door siren.

Presumably finished putting away her 'toys', Sally came racing out from behind the counter. She narrowly missed colliding with the trucker before skidding to a halt before the Team. 

"You came back!" she said happily, giving BA an especially bright smile.

"Well, this place does have the best company in town," Face said.

Murdock leaned over and teasingly whispered, "I think she's a little too young to know what charm means, Faceman."

"No she isn't," Face replied, watching Hannibal stand up so Sally could sit next to BA.

Sylvie returned with cups of coffee and milk. She saw the small girl sitting next to BA and frowned. "Sally, quit pestering the customers."

"She's all right." Hannibal defended. He took the adjoining booth. "I'll eat over here."

"You sure?" Sylvie double checked.

"No problem," Face assured her. "BA loves the company. He's just a big kid at heart." 

BA gave him a look. Face hastily took his cup and joined Hannibal at the next table. 

"Is Lucy around?"

Sylvie nodded toward the kitchen. "Back helping Jess clean up." 

Sylvie glanced around after taking their orders. All the customers seemed to be happy. So she stuck around to do what she had scolded Sally for. "Heard I missed you yesterday," she said to Hannibal. "Makes me wish I worked over."

Face tried not to laugh at her not-so-subtle interest. There was an equally amused glint in Hannibal's eyes.

"Like today?"

"Naw, this is my usual shift. I was only filling in because Lucy was late. Working graves makes for a boring night life."

Face choked on his coffee. It nearly came flying out his nose in his attempt to keep from laughing.

"Okay, kid?" Hannibal asked at his coughing fit. 

"Yeah, all right," he said, recovering with some difficulty. He blinked back the tears the fit produced.

Sylvie gave Face a slightly disgusted look at the interruption.

"Not that the night life is boring around here," she tried again.

"Haven't noticed," Hannibal said, not rising to the bait. 

"Two nights and you haven't seen the show?" Sylvie sounded aghast.

"What show?" Hannibal suspected he knew what she was talking about. He hoped she would confirm it and volunteer some information if he acted otherwise.

"The lights, of course," she answered. Hannibal shook his head, feigning ignorance. "Too bad. Everyone should see the lights before they leave," she said, her tone holding pity for them.

"Maybe tonight."

"Tonight?" she echoed, nonplused. Terry entered, she gave him an uneasy glance.

"Yeah," Face put in cheerfully. "This place is different. We thought we'd stay a while 'n' see the sights." Face pointed skyward.

"See the show," Hannibal added.

"Get to know the people," Face said suggestively. 

Sylvie lost her smile. She jumped when Jess shouted that an order was ready.

Lucy came out of the kitchen as Sylvie picked up the orders. Lucy sighed and shook her head when Sylvie didn't so much as say hello to Terry, who patiently waited for service at the counter. 

"I've got him, Sylvie," Lucy called. Sylvie only nodded.

A moment later, she came over and ruffled her daughter's hair. "Sally, are you pestering these poor men?"

"No. We're drawing," Sally said, as if that explained everything. She and Murdock were currently in a contest to see who could color in the place mats the fastest.

"You found your friend," she commented to Hannibal.

"Yes," Hannibal agreed. "He 'turned up' like everyone said he would."

"I'm glad." She smiled gratefully at Murdock's humoring the little girl.

Hannibal smiled. "We are too."

Sally looked at her mother, then regarded Murdock with wide, serious eyes. "The green men got you?" She spoke so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Green men?" Murdock paled slightly. 

The others had told him about their day, and what they had learned as they searched for him. They told him the little girl was among those who had been abducted and returned. They failed, however, to mention her 'green men'. 

"I don't know." He had in his mind a vague image of a person with a bulbous head. For some reason it made him nervous. "I don't remember much."

Sally nodded solemnly. "Were you scared?"

He glanced at BA, hoping to find inspiration to help banish the growing sense of unease.

"A little, I guess," he told Sally with a faint shrug.

"Me too," she whispered. "Did they take you into the sky with them?"

"I remember flying, yes." The usual sense of freedom he felt when speaking of his passion didn't carry into his voice. He was too wary of what other feelings Sally's questions might evoke.

"That was kind of scary, too," she said. "But also kinda fun."

"Flying's always fun," Murdock pronounced so solemnly that he made Sally laugh.

Lucy watched all this with an expression of wonder. "Sally hasn't said so much about it since we found her," she said with an air of disbelief.

"If you don't mind me asking," Face started, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"Lucy," Terry called from his seat at the counter. "Devon's going to start to worry if you don't get going soon."

Lucy sighed at the friendly reminder. "Terry's right, Sally." She suddenly looked very tired. "Your mommy needs some sleep before she starts packing again." After a little bit of whining and stalling on Sally's part, Lucy managed to collect their things and hustle her daughter out.

Terry watched them leave, then got up to join the Team.

"I'm glad you're back," he greeted Murdock. "I was getting worried your friends might take the town apart looking for you."

Murdock flashed a quick smile. His color wasn't quite back to normal yet.

Terry didn't wait for any further response. Uninvited, he took a seat next to Face. "So you plan on sticking around for a while?" he asked Hannibal, bringing up the last bit he had heard between them and Sylvie. He set his coffee cup down with slow care.

"Until we find out what happened to Murdock," Hannibal answered truthfully.

Terry broke eye contact to gaze at his drink. "I wish you luck," he said sincerely.

"Do you work here or at the garage?" Face started light conversation as most of the biker people started past them. The Team wondered at Terry's visit, but sensed he wasn't going to start talking with so many eavesdroppers.

"I work everywhere," Terry answered with a self-conscious shrug.

The windows vibrated with the combined revving of four motorcycles. The elderly couple's conversation seemed even louder, now, with fewer people in the diner. The one biker who remained went to sit at the counter and keep Sylvie company.

Terry took a long, fortifying drink from his coffee. The cup shook slightly when it reached his lips. After a pause and a deep breath, he asked softly, "What are your intentions?"

Hannibal sat back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I told you, I intend to find out what happened to Murdock."

Terry didn't ask why Murdock didn't just tell them. 

"How are going to do that?" Terry held Hannibal's gaze.

"Any way we have to." Hannibal countered an implied threat with an implied threat. A quiet warning bell went off in his head. He wasn't used to seeing people who made threats let their nervousness show so much. But Terry did not break his gaze.

"But we're going to start with questions," Hannibal added reasonably. 

"Such as?" It sounded almost like a demand.

"What's going on around here?"

"Don't know." Terry answered promptly.

"Okay." Hannibal took this as tacit permission to continue. "How long have these disappearances been going on?"

"Two months last week." Terry looked at his empty cup. "If they've all been reported," he added.

Hannibal and Face exchanged glances. 

"They all talked to you?" Face asked.

"Yes."

Sylvie arrived with their breakfast. She set everything down without a word, not even a smile in Hannibal's direction.

"Well, most folks do," Terry amended after she left. His cup was still empty. "It comes with the job," he answered vaguely. 

"What else have most folks told you?" Hannibal asked.

"It happens only when it's dark. Nobody remembers clearly what happened to them after they return, those who remember anything at all." He looked pointedly at Murdock. "The abductions happen once a week, and your friend was right on schedule."

"How do you know all this?" Face asked.

Terry played with his cup. His hands were no longer shaking. "I know a lot of things," he said unhelpfully.

He looked at Sylvie and held up his cup. She did a round of refills reluctantly. 

"What else?" Terry prompted when they were alone again.

Hannibal had food in his mouth, so Face spoke for him. "Who else did this happen to?"

"No," Terry said firmly. He wasn't going to give them that much, he shook his head to emphasize the point. "They don't remember. I won't help you disturb them more."

Hannibal accepted this ultimatum without comment. He tried a different angle. "What about the missing people who died?"

Terry looked at him with a creased brow. "They weren't missing."

"Then why would Lucy think they were?"

"Lucy?" Terry puzzled this one out. "Oh. I can see how she came to that conclusion." He chuckled. "Some folks around here really do believe they've been kidnapped by aliens. No surprise there, I guess. They were two of a handful that talked about it all the time, even before this rash of disappearances started."

"I take it you don't believe it." Hannibal didn't believe it, either.

"Aliens?" Terry snorted. "Here? Not too likely. If aliens wanted to visit America they'd go to New York or LA, not here."

"What if they didn't want anybody to know they were here?" Murdock finally spoke up.

"If you didn't want to be found," Terry said, "where better to hide than New York or LA?"

Hannibal gave Face an amused look. Where better, indeed?

Back to the matter at hand. "Tell us about these two."

"It's not related," Terry protested.

"Humor us," Face said.

Terry regarded his cup for a long moment. 

At the counter, Sylvie and the biker were talking in low tones. Every once in a while, Sylvie would throw them dirty looks.

Terry sighed. "Okay. There's Lewis, my brother. I wouldn't count much of anything he might have said. He wasn't the most dependable witness. His favorite pastime was to drink, and he was good at it. He drank himself to death. I honestly don't know how much of his abduction stories were a joke and how much was hallucination."

"What did he say about them?" Face asked.

Terry shook his head. "He claimed to fly for them. At the risk of speaking ill of the dead, Lewis loved the skies but he couldn't fly if he fell from a cloud. He took lessons for I don't know how long. No one would allow him to fly solo."

"And the other one who died?" Hannibal prompted.

"Mr. Aberdeen, at least, had a good background." Terry shook his head. "But he was the craziest person I ever met." 

BA and Face automatically looked at Murdock. Murdock blinked back. A phrase from one of his favorite cartoon characters popped into his head, "He don't know me beawy well, do he?" 

Terry watched their reactions with a confused look.

Hannibal had to look away from Murdock's very innocent expression. He pulled his grin down to a more managable smile. "We have experience with crazy," he explained.

"I don't doubt that," Terry said ruefully.

"Tell us about this Aberdeen person."

"Right. Well, he was retired military. He was stationed here just before they shut the base down and never left. He thought he was making it up to the UFOs somehow by letting them use his yard." Terry's explanation earned confused looks.

"For what?" Face asked.

"His yard? I have no clue. He'd talk your ear off if you gave him half the chance. But _that _he kept to himself." Terry played with his cup as he answered the other meaning of Face's question. "As for making it up? Well, he was stationed overseas once for wartime efforts, he never said which war. Some mission he only referred to as 'that time' didn't go as planned. A lot of people were killed. He thought he'd killed a lot of innocent aliens."

"Oh," Face said.

They all fell silent. The Team knew the hard times of war a little too well. And what happened to those unable to cope. They knew pity and sadness for this fallen comrade they never met. And shared a moment of thanksgiving they had been spared. Mostly. 

Hannibal broke the uncomfortable pause. "Where can we find Aberdeen's place?"

"Why?" Terry asked warily.

"Call it a hunch," Face replied, smiling.

"And you want to do some poking around to confirm it," Terry said softly. He shook his head in wonder. "You really are determined to get down to it, aren't you?"

"Look mister," Hannibal said, his eyes growing cold. "I don't like it when one of my people disappears at night." He wished he had a cigar out so he could emphasize his point by poking it at Terry. He settled for a finger instead. "And I don't like being played with. Someone in this town is doing just that."

"Yeah, man," BA put his two cents in. "Someone's gonna pay!"

Terry looked at each man in turn, gauging the seriousness of the Team. Decision made, he turned over a place mat, not paying heed to the coffee ring he smeared on the table in the process. He pointed to one of the few squares on the map that wasn't on Main Street. "Mr. Aberdeen lived here."

Hannibal found the number in the box corresponded with one under the sight seeing heading. "Flat Tree?" he asked, reading off the description.

"That was why he bought the property. He thought it was one of the UFOs that flattened it," Terry said with a shrug.

"What about Lewis?"

"My brother stayed with me when he moved here." Terry examined his cup again. "There's nothing to see but the garage."

"Thank you." Hannibal stood up, indicating he was ready to leave. 

Terry followed him out.

Hannibal gratefully reached for a cigar. "You obviously don't like us here," He said to Terry as they waited for Face to take care of the bill. "So why are you helping us?" He wanted to get this one thing cleared up.

"I don't want any trouble," Terry said with a small half smile and a shrug. He countered with his own question. "The sheriff has had two months worth of investigating without being able to put this thing to rest. What make you think you'll figure it out?" He looked at them skeptically.

"We have something your sheriff doesn't," Hannibal said, putting the freshly lit cigar in his mouth.

"What's that?"

Hannibal smiled. 

BA, with a shake of his head, answered for him. "It's called the jazz."

Clues

Face passed Terry on his way out to the van. He was glad to shut the sliding door on the heat. Even the short walk from the diner to the van made his shirt sit wrong on him.

Beside him, Murdock sat with his head resting on the back of the seat, his eyes closed. 

"Are you okay, Murdock?" Face asked.

"Yeah. Just a little tired, Faceman." He turned his head towards Face, but didn't open his eyes. "Guess I didn't sleep well last night."

Actually, Murdock couldn't remember sleeping at all. It felt to him as if he had been shook awake immediately after closing his eyes the night before.

"Sure?" Face pressed on, sensing something else was bugging the pilot. "You were awfully quiet in the diner." This had Face a little worried. Murdock didn't do quiet for long.

"Don't complain," BA teased.

"Somethin' Sally said reminded me of something," Murdock admitted.

"About yesterday?" Hannibal asked.

"No, I don't think so." Murdock didn't sound very sure of himself. "Doesn't make any sense. Probably a dream or something." He tried to explain it away.

"What?" Face asked, curiously. He secretly enjoyed Murdock's wild imagination.

Murdock opened his eyes. A bit of amusement showed through, echoed by a lopsided smile. "Flying trash bags and glow in the dark people," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "The people were kinda green," Murdock explained the normal weird dream image.

"Flying trash bags, huh?" Hannibal sometimes wished he had such interesting dreams. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Why? Plannin' on traveling Trash Can Air?" Murdock joked. "Wouldn't recommend it. I hear they're cramped and their service really stinks." He got the intended groans from the pun.

"What was that?" Hannibal asked a few minutes later.

"What?" Face had an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu. They were on the same stretch of road, though not quite as close to the motel as before, where they had had the encounter with the flash of light.

"Not again," Murdock moaned, slouching a bit in his chair.

"I heard something." Right on cue, they heard a low thud from somewhere up front. 

"What is it?" Face asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"Don't know." Both Hannibal and BA looked around for anything unusual, BA while also trying to keep an eye on the road. 

Another thud, a little louder. 

"Maybe it's the engine," Hannibal suggested after failing to find anything out of place.

BA tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Nothin' wrong with my engine," he protested, not about to let the affront to his precious van slide.

As if to purposely contradict him, the thud sounded again. It was definitely coming from somewhere before him. BA grunted when it happened yet again only a few moments later. Wisely, no one said a word about his engine.

Not one to put things off when it came to his van, BA pulled off to the side of the road to check on it. Hannibal followed him out, Face and Murdock opted to stay where it was cooler.

BA put the hood up, muttering unhappily as he surveyed the engine. It didn't take long to spot the problem. A small black box dangled in a crevice between hoses, loosely attached to the engine by a piece of exposed wire. From the looks of it, it would have taken only a couple more hours of driving and vibrations, and the wire would have worked its way off. 

"Somebody been messin' with my van!" BA said, outraged. He carefully disengaged the wire, letting the little box drop. 

"What is it?" Hannibal picked it up while BA double-checked the engine for other surprises. He turned it over in his hands. It was nothing more than plastic and wire. 

"I don't care. Somebody been messin' with my van!" Satisfied there was no further tampering, BA closed the hood with more force than was needed. 

They went back inside, BA muttering the phrase for yet a third time, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Who would mess with your van, big guy?"

BA growled, Murdock quickly sat back.

"What happened, Hannibal?" Hannibal tossed the little box to Face in answer to his question. "What is it?" Face turned the box around, unknowingly echoing Hannibal's earlier question and motion.

Hannibal shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, kid."

"That attendant!" BA said suddenly, hitting the steering wheel. He hadn't started up the van yet.

"What?" Hannibal eyed the steering wheel. Surprisingly, it seemed to be holding up under the recent beatings.

"That man, Terry. I left the van with him when we first got in," BA admitted reluctantly. Anger quickly overcame any embarrassment at not having watched the van well enough. "Sucka's gonna pay," he declared.

"Cool it, BA," Hannibal said.

"Cool it?" BA couldn't believe his ears. "But the man…."

"I know, I know," Hannibal interrupted. "But he's behind us right now, and I don't want to make a scene at the diner. We'll talk to him," Hannibal assured BA before he could start up again. "Later. Right now we've got a job to do."

Face smiled at the glint in Hannibal's eyes. "So, what's the plan, Hannibal?" And hopefully the job would give BA time to get his temper under control.

"A split up," Hannibal said. "Murdock came back acting drugged, maybe the others did too. The local doctor probably took a look at them. I want to know what he had to say about it, what he thinks they were given. Face, we're going to leave you and Murdock to cover that angle," Hannibal explained. "See if you can persuade him to give us some names. I want to talk to the others this has happened to."

"What do you expect me to do, Hannibal?" Face frowned at him. "I can't exactly go in there in some disguise or another. This isn't like LA. They'd notice another person," Face whined.

"You'll think of something," Hannibal dismissed. His smile seemed to grow.

"Gee, thanks." It was nice to have his confidence, but there were times when Face thought the only reason Hannibal had such faith in his abilities was because Hannibal couldn't think of anything himself.

Snooping Around

Doctor Wentworth's office was number 7 on the map, following the grocery store and the pet shop respectively. Like every other building on Main Street, it looked like a converted warehouse.

"What's the plan, Faceman?" Murdock asked for the second time since Hannibal and BA had dropped them off. They were standing in the shade a little ways down the street from the office. 

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." Face dreamt up and discarded several scenarios already. This just was not going to be an easy scam day.

"Well think a little faster," Murdock said, impatiently waiting on Face to come up with a scheme. "I'm gonna die of heat out here!"

"The heat," Face muttered absently. His face lit up. "I got it!"

"What?" Murdock asked warily. Murdock had the feeling he was going to get the hard part of this job.

"We're going to borrow a page from Hannibal's book." Face smiled at him. 

"Oh no," Murdock groaned. Hannibal operated from a very thin book. There weren't many pages to choose from. "Not the front door method. You couldn't think of something more original?"

"Why mess with perfection?" Face started walking up the street. "Come on, Murdock. You've been out in the sun too long. You're not looking too good."

"Why do I always have to be the distraction?" Murdock asked Face's retreating back. He might be good at them, but he wasn't in a distraction kind of mood.

The office, they were disappointed to find, wasn't kept very cool. The waiting room was empty. No one responded to the bell on the door – which, thankfully, was just a bell. 

"Maybe he's not here," Murdock suggested hopefully. 

"Hello?" Face was suspicious of any such hope. No one being there would make their job a little too easy. "Anyone home?"

"Uh, hi. Just a minute," a voice called. To one side of a plain metal desk was a propped open door leading to a short hallway. They could see a man wearing jeans and crumpled T-shirt approaching them from the other side. His hair was askew and his eyes drooped a little, as if he'd just been asleep. 

"Are you the doctor?" Face didn't let the man do more than nod. "Good. My friend here, he isn't feeling so good. Hasn't been since last night." The doctor jumped slightly at the mention of the previous night. Face wondered at it, but didn't let it faze him. "I really think you need to take a look at him." He looked at Murdock and prompted, "Don't you think he needs to take a look at you?" 

"Uhm…." Murdock found himself even more uncomfortable. He had seen enough doctors to have strict rules about them. One of was never trust a doctor who looked more uncomfortable than his patients.

"See?" Face tried to speed things along. Confusion was usually a good strategy. "Can you see him now? You can have your secretary give me…."

"I don't have a secretary," Wentworth managed to get in sideways. 

"Oh." Unruffled, and secretly pleased, Face put on a thoughtful expression. "Well, then," he flashed his patented winning smile, "you can give me the paperwork to fill out while you see my friend." Face pushed an unhappy Murdock at an equally unhappy doctor.

Wentworth paused at the desk to pull out a clipboard and some forms.

"Thank you," Face said brightly. He took them from the harried doctor and pretended to read through the forms. 

Wentworth led Murdock through the small hallway and into one of the rooms. As soon as Wentworth closed the door, Face put the clipboard down and started snooping around.

"What's your name?" Wentworth asked as he directed Murdock to the standard issue examination bed.

"Howard Miller," Murdock mumbled.

The lie also seemed to startle Wentworth. He certainly acted as if he expected something else. "Oh. Uhm, I'm Dr. Wentworth. Friend said you weren't feeling well?"

"Tired," Murdock answered truthfully. "Probably the heat," he added when the doctor didn't say anything. 

Hoping to give Face more time, Murdock went into a spiel about how sleeping when it was too hot out gave him the strangest dreams and went on to describe some of his tamer, yet still bizarre, dreams. He hoped Face was quick in doing his part, because Wentworth wasn't even giving him the usual 'is that so' of someone humoring a crazy man.

Murdock watched Wentworth's hands as he performed the usual doctorly stuff. They were sweaty and shook slightly. They had been steady when he greeted them in the waiting room. That was another rule Wentworth hit. Never trust a doctor with sweating hands. You never know what they might drop, or when. Shaking hands Murdock could handle; he'd met some very good doctors who had permanently trembling hands. 'Course, most of those were psychiatrists. Even they didn't fumble things like Wentworth was doing. He nearly dropped the tongue depressor, twice.

Murdock sat through this, talking constantly, but not giving any information about his so called illness. Wentworth didn't ask any leading questions in a very un-doctor-like way. It was as if Wentworth wanted Murdock out of there as much as Murdock wanted to _be_ out of there.

After too quick of an 'examination', Wentworth prescribed rest and staying out of the sun for a few days. That was all. He left Murdock in the examination room, blinking and wondering if Face had enough time to find anything.

Murdock sighed and slowly made his way toward the waiting room.

"Pssst!"

Murdock found Face peeking around a door opposite of the examination room. Face waved him over. Murdock looked down the hall. Dr. Wentworth had his back turned to him, and was in the process of picking up a ringing phone.

Murdock hurried into the half-opened room, careful not to jar the door. Face pulled him to concealment behind it. Murdock thought it was a ridiculous place to hide. If he thought someone was in a room that should be empty, behind the door would be the first place he would look. Right after that would be under the desk. The desk, in this case, he could clearly see under. And the filing cabinets were arranged in such a way as to not provide any convenient hiding places. Murdock sighed. They were stuck hiding behind the door.

"Did you find anything?" he whispered.

"No. You let him out too early," Face scolded.

"Sorry." Murdock raised his arms and let them fall in exasperation.

Face accepted the apology without saying anything more about it. "Well, now we just have to find a way out of here."

Face carefully stuck his head out for a peek. The doctor had put down the phone and was looking around. He apparently just realized his patient was gone. Wentworth found the clipboard where Face had set it. He picked it up, looked at the still blank forms with a frown. 

"He's still out there," Face whispered to Murdock. 

"There's gotta be a back door," Murdock reasoned.

"If there is, we can't get to it without going through him, first."

Murdock rolled his eyes. "Great," he groaned.

And to make matters worse, the tinkling of bells announced someone coming into the office.

"Maybe another patient," Murdock hoped aloud.

"Terry!" Wentworth called, "I'm glad you're here."

"Or maybe not," Face said.

Wentworth now had his back to them. He gestured animatedly to the man Face couldn't see. "Some men just came in. One of them wasn't feeling good so naturally I looked at him. I turned around for a minute, and they were gone!"

"What did they look like?"

For someone who had been half asleep when they arrived, Wentworth did a remarkably good job describing them.

Murdock looked out, standing on his toes so he could see over Face's head better.

"I'll talk to them," Terry said to the doctor. 

Wentworth wasn't happy with that. "Talk to them? Talk to them! But they left without paying! And they didn't even fill out the proper paperwork." The doctor waved the clipboard around. 

"I said I'll talk to them, Doctor." Terry insisted. 

"But they could have left by now." Wentworth sounded strangely hopeful. "You should go after them before they.…"

"Why does he want a mechanic to go after us?" Murdock asked. Face just shrugged.

Terry cut Wentworth off with a dismissing tone. "I know where to find them." 

He sounded very sure of himself. Too sure for Face's comfort. Fearing they might have been seen by the still unseen Terry, Face pulled Murdock back behind the door.

"I want to see my brother's files," Terry said in demanding tone.

"What?" Wentworth said confused at the sudden change in topic.

"Lewis! I forgot," Face groaned. He went to one of filing cabinets, paused. "Do you remember his last name?" he asked Murdock.

"Who's?"

"Lewis's," Face hissed, annoyed at not being able to raise his voice when he wanted to.

"He's Terry's brother," Murdock provided unhelpfully.

"I know that!" Face rolled his eyes. "What's their last name?"

"Try Graham."

Face pulled open the appropriate drawer. "Why?" he asked even as he ruffled through the files.

Murdock shrugged. "Graham's Garage."

Face didn't ask why Murdock would assume the name on the garage belonged to it's employees. He was too annoyed at himself for not thinking of such an obvious place to start. And there it was, Lewis Graham. Face quickly pulled the file. He reached the drawer on top and grabbed Aberdeen's.

He paused for a moment to listen at the door. Wentworth and Terry were having a nice heated discussion. He didn't stay long enough to hear what they were arguing over. It didn't sound like it was ending, which was good enough for Face. He hoped they were making enough noise at each other to not notice the sound of the copy machine.

Face put the files away and returned to the door just in time to hear the departing shots.

"…dead, they don't have privacy anymore!" Terry sounded very flustered.

"Sorry." Wentworth didn't sound the least bit sorry.

Face risked a peek around the door. Wentworth had his back to them. Terry was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed.

"Fine." Terry pushed himself away from the desk. "If you won't give it to me willingly, I'll have to find another means," he threatened.

"You do that!" Wentworth spat angrily.

Terry turned and stalked out of the office. Face and Murdock ducked their heads back inside when Wentworth walked down the hallway. He went into the examination room and picked up the phone. Face and Murdock snuck past the door while Wentworth had his back turned toward them.

"Yeah, it's me," they heard him say as they went by. "We have to talk."

They didn't hear the rest of the conversation as they made it unspotted to the waiting room, then unheard out the front door.

_ _ _ _ 

Aberdeen owned a small house on a piece of land barren except for the tree. The tree was not quite as 'flat' as the descriptor on the map made it sound, but was close enough to horizontal to be interesting. Had it been upright, it would have stood taller than the house itself. As it was, it lay at an angle that put the Leaning Tower of Pisa to shame. 

The ground around the base of the tree was bowl-shaped, as if it had caved in. It was deeper on the side facing the house, exposing several thick cords of roots. Hannibal circled the tree, careful not to get too close to the depression for fear that the cause might still remain. 

Despite its haphazard condition, the tree was the only non-potted flourishing vegetation Hannibal had seen in days. Decidedly deciduous in nature, the needles were crisp and green except on the underside of the tree. The branches were thick with them on the top and one side, while the backyard side was sparser and gap filled.

The backyard was little more than hard packed soil and dust. It looked as if the area had been used often, though he couldn't tell how long ago that was. There was half-smeared scuffs and partial prints of more than one foot. But nothing to give away who had been there or why.

Hannibal made one more circle of the tree then decided to try the house. He was surprised to find the door locked. Suspicious people live even in small towns like this, it would appear. He twisted the knob once more. Then he heard the noise: a very familiar click.

Hannibal let go of the door-knob and slowly put his hands out by his sides where they could be easily seen. He turned around with just as much care. He found the business end of a shotgun pointed at his mid-section. Holding it was the man Terry had been hollering at yesterday morning at the garage.

"Brandon, right?" Hannibal asked when the quiet man with the lopsided beard didn't say anything.

Brandon took a startled step backwards. 

"I saw you talking to Terry yesterday, when you borrowing the pickup," Hannibal reminded him. "He wasn't too happy about the paint not being dry before you packed your stuff in it."

Brandon stepped back again. Hannibal hadn't made a move. After a moment, the other man risked a nod. The barrel of the shotgun lowered slightly.

Hannibal looked at Brandon, trying to measure him up. Brandon, uncomfortable, shuffled back yet again. Hannibal sighed. It would be tedious if he had to stand there and stare Brandon back all day. 

"Name's Hannibal," Hannibal offered, deciding Brandon wasn't going to instigate the familiar questioning or demands that usually came with having a weapon pointed at him. "My friend over there is BA."

Brandon nearly dropped the shotgun. BA stood near the van, his own weapon drawn and one of his meaner scowls pointed at Brandon. The startled man recovered before the gun hit the ground. It shook slightly as Brandon held it aimed at the ground he just saved it from. 

"Put it away, BA." Hannibal doubted Brandon had ever intended to use the shotgun. It was obvious he was too nervous to even think about doing so now.

"You're the ones with the missing man?" Brandon finally found his voice.

Hannibal motioned for BA to stay where he was. It would be difficult to carry on a conversation if he had to shout to be heard. "We were." Hannibal didn't move to close the distance the other man had put between them. "We found him."

Pause. "Then you aren't looking for him here." The soft statement seemed to be as close to a demand for answers for their presence as Brandon was going to make.

"No," Hannibal smiled. "We're looking for answers here."

Brandon was apparently a man who considered every word before he spoke. Another pause was followed by a riddle. "Answers are everywhere if you ask the right questions."

Hannibal frowned, then understood. Brandon was fishing for answers by not asking the questions.

"We want to find out what happened to our friend," he explained. "We were told Major Aberdeen's would be…."

"You called him 'Major'," Brandon burst in, surprising Hannibal. 

"Ranks are generally well earned," Hannibal said. 

Brandon surprised him further by stepping closer. He had a sad smile on his face. "He would like you," he pronounced. "Most don't honor him that way."

"I noticed everyone's on a first name basis around here except for him." Hannibal hoped to keep Brandon at ease and get more out of him.

Brandon nodded once. "He was always a Sir or Ma'am, Mr. or Mrs. kind of person. The Major only called close friends by their first names."

"He didn't have any here?"

"I considered him a friend," Brandon said slowly. He answered questions by not answering them, too. "Most thought him crazy," he added sadly.

"Because of the UFOs?" Hannibal tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice without much success.

Brandon snorted. "_Our_ UFOs mind their own business," he stated. "They don't bother the neighbors. They don't make a sound." He sounded like he was describing the perfect neighbor. "They move faster. And they don't steal," he added bitterly.

"Someone's been stealing from you?"

Brandon nodded twice. "Glow in the dark paint is expensive," he mourned.

Hannibal raised his brows. "Glow in the dark?" He was beginning to feel a bit like Face when trying to figure out something Murdock was saying.

Brandon nodded again. 

"Hannibal," BA called. He'd finally lost his patience waiting for Hannibal to get to something interesting. "We're wastin' our time here."

"Hold on, BA." Hannibal turned to Brandon again. "Would this paint happen to be green?"

Brandon's eyebrows went up, and the not quite so thick side of his beard twitched. 

Hannibal took the gesture to be a surprised yes. He gave BA a what-did-I-tell-you look. "I don't suppose you know who took this paint?" 

Brandon frowned. Hannibal translated that as a no. "Someone who likes a lot of light and noise," Brandon said. "And liked to pester Major Aberdeen at night."

More Answers, More Questions

Hannibal didn't get much more useful information from Brandon. And Brandon resolutely refused to let them look through Aberdeen's house. Hannibal finally gave in to BA's urgings to go see Terry about the mysterious black box they had found in the van's engine.

The front office of Graham's Garage was air-conditioned, well lit, and kept remarkably clean. The wall adjoining the garage itself was adorned with framed photos. The wall opposite with advertisements and old car parts. Chairs lined the glass wall to the side of the front door. Shelves occupied the furthest wall. Just before those was a counter with a cash register, a phone, and a slightly irate Terry.

"Don't you tell me that!" He leaned against the counter with his back to the door and the phone pressed to his ear. He didn't seem to have heard the bell over his conversation. "I've got two dead already," he hollered, his free hand swinging out to take in the town. Or at least his shop. "There's going to be more soon if you don't get a move on it! … Yeah, right. … I don't care what you have to do or who you have to do it to, just hurry!"

Terry had to turn to slam the phone down in the proper location. "Of all the stupid things…." Then he noticed his guests. "Sorry." The word lost strength as he became aware of just how peeved BA looked.

"What didja do to my van?" BA demanded.

"What?"

Hannibal tossed the little black box to him. Terry caught it easily, and gave it a dismayed look.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Oh?" Hannibal asked.

"Uhm." Terry came out from behind the counter. He looked at his hands fiddling with the box. "I'm afraid you've been the victim of a practical joke."

"A joke?" Why, Hannibal wondered, was he suddenly parroting everybody? 

"You were messin' with my van 'cause of a joke?" BA couldn't get his mind wrapped around the idea. 

"You better explain it to the man," Hannibal advised Terry. BA didn't like being confused.

"Uhm, you've entered the Twilight Zone?" Terry tried. His hands finally went still. 

"That ain't funny!" BA took a menacing step forward.

"No, it isn't." Hannibal agreed. He didn't stop BA, but kept an eye on him, just in case.

Terry sighed. "Sorry. Bad joke, I know." He looked from BA to Hannibal and back again. He took a breath. "It's the UFOs."

"What's that gotta do with my van?" BA asked before Terry could start his explanation.

"Everything." Terry glanced again at BA, but decided to give the explanation to Hannibal. "Around here we get a lot of UFOs. In the strictest sense of the term," he added quickly, preempting any comment. "Unidentified flying objects. I've seen lots of objects in the air that I couldn't identify. Everyone here has."

"The show?" Hannibal thought of Sylvie's description.

Terry smirked. "Yeah, the show. It's part of what makes people want to visit Merlott. Trouble is, those unknown objects don't keep a showing schedule. So, uhm, we kinda made a show of our own."

"We?"

"The town council," Terry admitted reluctantly. "We wanted everyone who came through to see it," Terry went on. "So, between the Marges's and town we used the electrical poles and the fence around the base for the lights."

"Whatta 'bout my van?" BA put in impatiently. Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from advancing on Terry any more.

"Yeah. Well, the lights are on a timer. Lewis," he sounded embarrassed to even say his brother's name, "thought it would be neat if we found a way to make the cars stall, like in all those stories you hear about the close encounters. The council liked the idea."

Terry prudently backed away from BA. "Don't worry." This time he spoke directly to BA. "It doesn't hurt your car. And it only works once, and that only between the Marge's and town. It's supposed to fall off before long. I guess you discovered it first," he added mournfully.

He paused a moment. "If you want to press charges," he started, "I'll go get a deputy and we can go next door."

Terry sounded as if he liked the idea about as much as Hannibal did. For obvious reasons he didn't want any trouble with the local authorities, much less bring trouble to them. 

Hannibal didn't answer immediately. He was still trying to figure Terry out. "Why are you offering?" 

"Tampering with other people's property isn't exactly legal," Terry said matter of factly.

"Not exactly," Hannibal agreed. "I suppose your sheriff knows about this?"

Terry flashed the uncomfortable half smile and gave his one shouldered shrug. "Yeah. He knows."

Hannibal and Terry stood a moment watching each other. 

"Thanks," Hannibal said finally. "But I think we'll skip the complaints this time. Just make sure it doesn't happen to us again."

BA looked at the two and realized he wasn't going to be able to do anything. "But Hannibal," BA complained. He really wanted to vent his frustrations on someone.

"Not now, BA." Hannibal turned his back on Terry and led BA out the door. "We'll discuss it after we pick up Face and Murdock." 

_ _ _ _ 

Face and Murdock had picked themselves up, in a matter of speaking. They had seen the van pull into the mechanic's parking lot from where they were waiting at the ice-cream shop. They decided it would be wiser to let BA blow off steam in private, and were waiting in the van when Hannibal and BA arrived.

"Everything all right?" Face asked. 

BA didn't say anything as he got in. He merely grunted unhappily at the question. 

"We just had an interesting chat," Hannibal said. 

"A chat?" Face looked at the two of them skeptically. "That's all?"

"And a deal not to get tied up with the sheriff."

"That's good, at least." Hannibal waited the half-beat before his words finally sank in for Face. "What?"

Hannibal chuckled. "Take us someplace where we can compare notes, BA. I don't want to make Terry nervous by sitting around his place."

As BA pulled out away form the garage, Hannibal turned to Face. "So what have you got, kid?"

"Wait a minute," Face protested. "What is this about the sheriff?"

"Yeah, Hannibal," Murdock agreed. He voiced the first thing that had popped into their heads at Hannibal's offhand mention. "Did we just almost get caught?"

Hannibal filled them in. "You mean that bit with the stalling and light was a _con_?" Face couldn't decide whether to be outraged or admire the work. He settled on the latter with a laugh.

"Did you hear that, Murdock?" Face couldn't resist poking a little fun at his friend. "It wasn't real."

Murdock gave him a smile, though it was clear his heart wasn't in it. He didn't say anything.

"We had an interesting encounter at Major Aberdeen's," Hannibal started. "It seems there's a fellow with a workshop down the street from his house. He said a lot of strange lights and noises came from Aberdeen's place at least once a week. Turns out those are the same nights people have gone missing. Including the night before last."

All gazes went to Murdock. Murdock studied his sneakers.

"Any idea what caused those lights and noises?" Face asked. "Or what they were doing there?"

"No. Our source is a bit of hermit. Definitely on the shy side. He wouldn't have gone to investigate, even if it didn't mean bothering a neighbor."

Face sighed. "Too bad."

"What did you find?" Hannibal asked again.

"This Dr. Wentworth isn't worth his title." Face handed the copies he'd made to Hannibal. "He didn't perform any tests other than the how-are-you-feeling and does-this-hurt variety. Not even blood tests, even though he noted that they appeared disoriented and drugged-like."

"Hmm." Hannibal flipped through the files. "Four? That's all who came in?"

"Could have been more," Face admitted. "We couldn't keep Wentworth distracted long. Four was all I could find before we ran into a bit of a problem." 

"Problem?"

Face snorted. "Our friendly mechanic Terry came in."

Hannibal exchanged a look with BA. He raised his brows at Face. "And what did he want?" Hannibal didn't like this little 'coincidence'.

"He came in demanding to see Lewis's files."

"Why?"

Face shrugged. "Maybe our little interview with him this morning made him nervous," he guessed. "I don't know. But Wentworth didn't give them to him."

"Did you get them?" Face was handing him the copies even as Hannibal asked about them.

"Thought you might like more to follow on your hunch." Face purposefully didn't add how he had almost forgotten about them.

"Nice," Hannibal said, approvingly.

"And you'll love this one even more," Face said, recapping what Hannibal was glancing through. "Cause of deaths, 'by drink' and 'heart attack'," Face quoted. "But Major Aberdeen never showed any previous sign or symptoms of heart troubles."

"Where's the autopsy report?" Hannibal flipped through the pages, just in case he had missed it.

"There weren't any."

"Hmm," Hannibal said again. "Remind me never to see the man."

"Murdock wasn't too thrilled with him, either." Face nodded toward the quiet pilot. 

Hannibal flipped back to the pages belonging to the previous abduction victims. "Now that we have some names, let's go have a talk with the others."

Testimonials

There was little to suggest a correlation between the victims of the abductions. They weren't all from Merlott; Murdock was the odd one out there. They weren't all in the same age bracket; little Sally was by far the youngest and Debra Laird the oldest. The adults didn't even make a living in similar ways. 

They had difficulty finding the addresses without a map of the town proper. Lesley Wilson was the first person they located. She was tall and thin, but what flesh she did have seemed to be all muscle. She was a History and PE teacher who doubled as coach for every sport Merlott had. Their visit with her was short, as she had no memory of the event.

"I went to bed one night," she explained, "and woke up the next afternoon in the school's gymnasium."

The only thing of interest she had to say was about Dr. Wentworth. "I woke up sick. I hate being sick," she said. "So Terry took me to see the doctor. He couldn't find anything wrong. Even the blood tests turned up negative."

John Anglen was the last person they visited. He was a short and rather portly man who said 'sorry' every three or four words. Like Lesley, all he remembered was what happened after he was found. Though he hadn't felt particularly ill, he did comment on how he had been very tired and sore, as if he'd just had a good work out. He apologized profusely for not having anything more to offer.

Debra Laird and David David ("My parents didn't want me to forget my name," he joked) had more to say. 

Debra was the second person the Team visited. She was a sprightly woman of seventy-two, who lived with her husband, Richard. The Lairds greeted the four visitors as if they were long lost friends, offering them drinks and food, the couch and the TV. They accepted the beverages and seats, and politely declined being fed or entertained.

David lived alone except for his cats, and didn't have the furnishings to spare. He led them directly to his small kitchen, where it was cooler, and started by drilling them.

"You all UFO-ologists?" David leaned against the refrigerator and looked them each up and down. "Come ta ask a bunch of questions and studyin' the UFOs an' all?"

"We are now," Hannibal said.

David crossed his arms and smiled.

"Well, Terry warned me ya'll'd be dropping by." 

Debra sat on a rocking chair, her husband standing guard behind her. 

Face tried on his innocent look. "He did?" 

"Yes," Richard answered. "He said you'd want to ask us about… it." He frowned. Debra patted his hand.

"The guy really gets around," Face muttered to Hannibal.

"I know." Louder, Hannibal asked the Lairds, "Did he tell you why we would come?"

"He seems to think you'll be able to solve the mystery." Richard did not sound as certain. "He doesn't think they were UFOs."

"Do you?" 

"I didn't used ta," David said. "I don't know, anymore."

A cat wondered in and clawed at his pants leg. Well trained, David reached down to pick it up. 

"I don't know why Terry wants me ta talk ta ya'll." David watched the cat as he scratched behind it's ears. "I don' like talking 'bout that night. Gives me the weirdest dreams…"

"Frankly, it gives me nightmares," Richard said. "Just the thought that somebody, something, could have come into our home…" He put a hand protectively on Debra's shoulders. "I slept right through it."

"It's okay, honey," Debra said. "It wasn't your fault." 

"Richard never sleeps through the night," she explained. 

"I slept till the alarm clock went off," Richard admitted reluctantly. "Even then I had a hard time waking up."

"Do _you_ remember anything about that night," Face asked.

"Yes," Debra said. Richard squeezed her shoulder. "A noise woke me up." 

"I thought it was one of the cats at first," David said. The cat he held had enough of the scratching and whined to be let down. "There was a pressure on the bed. I moved ta push the cat off. They know they aren't allowed on the bed. But then somethin' grabbed my arm. That's when I opened my eyes and saw them." 

"There were two of them," Debra said. "They were big. They looked liked people, except they were… I don't know… wrinkled."

"Wrinkled?" 

"Yeah." David frowned at his inability to describe them well. "Like they didn't have enough muscle to fill the skin."

"You could see this in the dark?" BA asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

"Well," David said, uncomfortably, "they kinda… glowed." 

"I know it sounds silly," Debra said. "But it was like they were lit, but really faintly."

"Like the way glow-in-the-dark paint would?" Hannibal asked, thinking back on his conversation with Brandon.

Debra brightened. "Yes. Like those little statues they sell in the gift shops."

"Can you remember any other features?" 

David laughed. "Like that isn't enough to set them apart?"

"Every little bit of information helps," Hannibal said.

David sighed. "Well, they were kinda green, an' I don't mean in the new-at-their-job sense."

David looked as if he were about to say more, but hesitated. 

"Something else?" Hannibal asked.

"Well..." David rubbed the back of his neck. "Their heads weren't right. Too big." 

"And round," Debra said. "Like a gold-fish bowl I couldn't see through." She smiled as if she knew how her words sounded.

"Bug faces."

"I'm sorry?" 

It was the first time Murdock had spoken since the interviews began. He pulled himself up a little from his slouch. In something slightly louder than his previous mumble, said, "Bug faces. Like in the old movies." 

"You've seen them too," David said. Murdock shrugged. "Yeah. Not the prettiest things ta remember. 'Specially after what they did."

Face had been watching Murdock not watching anybody when David's words pulled his attention away. "What did they do?"

"I'm not really sure." David fidgeted under the gaze of three pairs of eyes. "Well, when I saw 'em, I was wide awake. Then they put somethin' over my mouth, and all the sudden I was sleepy and light headed." 

"I felt like I was floating," Debra said. "Then I realized they were carrying me."

"Where was your husband during all this?"

Richard's hand tightened on Debra's shoulder. "He never woke up," Debra said softly, no trace of accusation in her voice.

"Were you scared?" Face asked, amazed at how calmly she was recounting everything.

"No." She smiled self-consciously. "It was strange. I wasn't scared. When we were outside, I didn't feel very cold, even though the wind was blowing. And there was this light…"

"Well, if they were aliens," David said, "then it was probably their spaceship. I don't know. I just know that it was cramped, and it was loud. And we must have flew, because I remember feeling sick." David grimaced, rubbed his stomach. "Just thinking about flying makes me sick."

"I know the feelin', brotha," BA said.

David looked pale. "After that, things got kind of blurred." 

"They left me alone someplace dark for a while." Debra looked at some middle distance. 

"For how long?"

"I don't know." She rubbed her eyes. "I wasn't feeling too well then. They came back and took me someplace else. I think they wanted me to do something."

"What?" 

"I don't know." David looked frustrated. "I told you, it's not too clear. I remember it being dusty, and loud and windy. I think we moved things, loading or unloading maybe." 

"We?"

"They worked too." David rubbed his head. He looked up, suddenly, as if he'd just remembered something. "They pushed me around," he said, sounding offended. "When I didn't move fast enough, they shoved me to go faster." 

"Whatever it was they were doing," Debra said, "they were in a hurry. Then one of them went with the light. The other touched me." Debra shook her head. "Next thing I remember after that was coming to on the back porch."

"She acted like she was drunk," Richard said.

"Did you see the doctor?" 

"Sure I did." David shrugged. "Ran all sorts of tests. He didn't find anything though."

David watched Face and Hannibal exchange looks. "Have you talked ta the others already?" 

"A few," Hannibal answered.

"We don't talk 'bout it much," David said. "I mean, sure everyone talks 'bout UFOs, it's the town, after all. But, 'cept for Terry, and maybe the doctor, we don't talk much to each other, you know."

He gently nudged another cat off his foot while he gathered the nerve to ask what was on his mind. "Is this anything like what the others remember? Do you remember the same thing?" This last was directed at Murdock.

Murdock shrugged. "I have intermittent memory loss," he said with a grin. 

Face gave Murdock a sharp look. It had been a while since Murdock used that excuse. For those who knew him, there was a telling uncomfortable note in Murdock's blithe tone.

Face glanced at Hannibal, who returned his worried look with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"You're not alone," Hannibal answered David's question, while watching Murdock. 


	4. Day Four A

Encounters  
Day Four:

Déjà vu

Murdock stared at the ceiling. It was stained by smoke, dust and age, and the light from the window cast interesting shadows. There were lots of different shapes and designs, but like the hated inkblots, he couldn't make out any patterns. 

That seemed to be the way his mind worked lately. Lots of input, but little coherence. Every time he closed his eyes, he'd see bubble-headed bug faces with his own distorted reflection staring back at him. Dancing behind them would be a bunch of pretty lights doing sparkler designs on the dark background of his mind's eye. One had a menacing feel, the other brought with it a sense of awe. When he tried to separate the images, or push them away, or even to get a closer look at them, they would mix horribly, so that even the emotions he associated with them became confused.

Murdock wanted to talk about the images. He needed a sounding board to sort out memory from fantasy and folklore. He wanted some pattern to the bits and pieces which floated so tantalizingly close to the realm of answers. But he wasn't prepared yet for the teasing and disbelief he knew would come with discussing bug faces and floating lights. Murdock knew the others didn't mean any harm by it. They couldn't help being skeptical about some of things Murdock talked about. He made so many wild conjectures, and believed in so many things, sometimes even opposing ideas on consecutive weeks. There was a reason he was called crazy. Still, Murdock's belief in UFOs as something other than human was more than a passing fancy. Yet he had the niggling feeling there was something distinctly earthly about the images.

Murdock sighed. His game of seeing how long he could stare at something in order to make himself go to sleep wasn't working. His eyes burned, and his eyelids slid closed on their own. There appeared bulky green figures and wobbling colorless lights, accompanied by the mixed feelings of dread and anticipation. His eyes snapped open. 

When his bladder made its presence known, Murdock was glad for the excuse to get up. Anything to add variety to ceiling watching. Not wanting to wake up Face, he tried to move slow and quiet. The bed had other ideas. The slower Murdock moved, the louder the bed creaked. With a sigh, he gave in and stood up at normal pace. Thankfully, the floor remained silent as he made his way to the bathroom and closed the door before turning on the light.

On his way back to bed, he repeated the procedure in backwards order, light off before opening the door. Murdock hadn't allowed himself a moment for his eyes to readjust to the dark. So when he saw the movement, all he could make out was a vague upright shadow.

Murdock swallowed hard. "Uh, Faceman?" he asked hopefully.

"Murdock?" 

Murdock was greatly relieved to hear the familiar voice coming from the direction of the shadow, and not the second bed. 

The shadow moved. There was a low thud, followed by an, "Ow!"

Thus warned, Murdock had his eyes closed when Face switched on the light.

"Sorry, muchacho." Murdock blinked at Face's unhappy features. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," Face said, absently rubbing his thigh where he had hit the dresser. "You just... startled me."

Awakened by strange noises, Face had found Murdock's bed empty. He had a bad moment, thinking that Murdock had gone again, and Face had slept through it all. Face still couldn't understand how Murdock could have disappeared to… wherever Murdock had disappeared to, without disturbing him. Face knew he had been tired, but he was never _that_ tired. The war made light sleepers out of them all, and Face hadn't lost the habit. Or so he thought.

"Gonna keep the light on all night?" Murdock asked as he returned to bed. The bed was still made, though the standard motel issue bedspread was badly crumpled. Another turn or two, and Murdock would unmake the bed without laying a hand on it.

"Disturbing you?" Face asked, more for conversation value than concern for keeping Murdock up. The dark coloring under his eyes and the tell-tale tapping of his feet together were signs that Murdock hadn't been sleeping much anyway.

"Naw." Murdock put his hands under his head. "Not tired, anyway." A wide yawn belied his words.

"Probably too warm," Face said, hiding his smile.

"Probably."

Face checked the window. It was opened as far as it would go. The screen was marginally cooler under his hand, but there was no hint of a breeze to provide relief. 

He could feel Murdock watching him. He had been too quiet, lately, his attention someplace else. Face recognized the preoccupation, Murdock's way of trying to sort through something before talking about it. The waiting was going to drive Face nuts if it kept up much longer.

"It's cooler outside," Face said, pulling on his pants. "Join me for a walk?"

Murdock stared at him a moment, then got up.

It was just cool enough outside to make wearing clothes tolerable. A faint breeze blew perpendicular to the window, teasing them with promises of cooler weather.

The night was dark in a way one would be hard pressed to find in LA. The only artificial lights were those dotting the hotel, the neon bed and flying saucer of the Happy Hostel sign, and a street lamp far enough away to be easily mistaken for a overly bright star. The sky was clear, black and moonless, and lit by more stars than Face had seen in a long time.

He and Murdock stood leaning against the van in companionable silence. Face watched the sky, enjoying the sparkle of stars.

"Perfect night for little green men stories," Face commented, then flinched at the insensitivity of his words.

"They're not little," Murdock said softly. He kept his eyes skyward. "Unless they're Martians," he added, a little louder. "The little ones are kinda colorless."

"Colorless?"

"Yeah." Murdock paused for a thoughtful moment. "In the way that grey is sorta colorless."

"Grey is a color, Murdock."

Murdock shrugged. He looked about to say something when they heard the sounds of an approaching engine.

"Incoming," Murdock said, unnecessarily whispering. It wasn't as if the occupants of the vehicle approaching them could hear him.

The car came from the town side of the road. Its headlights snapped off when it was still too far from the motel. The engine went off as it turned into the driveway. It glided to a stop beside the motel, near the room Face and Murdock shared.

Two large figures turned the corner. They were tall, bulky, and genderless. They were also that shade of sickly green Face generally associated with glow-in-the-dark anything. So, these were the green men the town of Merlott was talking about.

Peeking around the shelter of the van, Face couldn't have felt more naked if he had all his clothes off. He didn't have a weapon. And he didn't bring the keys with him to get into the van. He was stuck watching as the pair of suspicious people entered their room.

Without warning, Murdock raced in after them.

"Murdock!" Face hissed. He didn't want to shout and alert the intruders to Murdock's arrival. That also kept him from alerting Hannibal and BA to trouble. With a moan of annoyance, Face rushed in to give Murdock back up. 

Their element of surprise, if they had surprise on their side to begin with, had been lost before Face entered the room. Murdock was on a bed, eyes partly opened but otherwise unresponsive. One of the figures was trying to pull him into an upright position. The other figure saw Face enter the room, and lunged at him. Face sidestepped the figure easily. The figure clumsily recovered itself. It turned and swung at Face with more speed than Face would have given it credit for. He ducked the incoming fist, only to discover too late that his head wasn't where it was headed. He felt a sting on the back of his shoulder. Confused, Face straightened, then swayed. He had half a moment to wonder if this was what BA felt when they knocked him out before Face crumpled unfeelingly to the floor.

_ _ _ _ 

The door to Room 12 was ajar. 

"Face? Murdock?" A groan answered Hannibal's calls.

He frowned and motioned BA back. Hannibal reached behind him and pulled his gun from its customary spot at the small of his back. With his foot, he pushed open the door. It rebounded off another foot. Hannibal carefully peered into the room, which was dark compared to the brightly lit morning. Face was down. There was no sign of immediate threat.

"Face?" Hannibal knelt beside him. 

Face moaned. He seemed to be trying to pick himself up, and wasn't doing a very good job of it. Hannibal helped him to a sitting position. The foot of the bed and Hannibal's hand were all that kept Face upright.

"You okay, Face?" BA asked.

Head lolling back, Face blinked at the ceiling. "Ask me again when I can think," he muttered.

Keeping his hand on Face's shoulder, Hannibal straightened up a bit to scan the room again. The beds had been slept in. The one nearest the door against which Face leaned had its bedspread and sheet mostly on the floor. The other was crumpled with the sheet just visible near the pillow. The lamp was on. The bathroom door was partially open. And once again, there was no sign of Murdock.

BA's eyes flitted over the room and met Hannibal's. Hannibal nodded toward the only obscured portion of the room. BA nodded and went to check.

Face apparently caught the silent interaction. "Hmm…. They took him." He shook his head as if to clear it.

"Who took him?"

Face chuckled dismally. "The green men," he said with an apologetic half smile.

BA returned to frown down at Face. "You tellin' me aliens took the fool?"

Face squinted up at BA. With more control, he shook his head in the negative. "Only if they started driving cars."

Confrontations

Hannibal absently chewed on the end of a no longer lit cigar. He was mad at himself for not being more on guard at the first sign of threat to the team. He should have had watches set up during the night. Or at the very least have roomed with Murdock again. Though he didn't blame Face, it also didn't make Hannibal feel any better that he had been awake and unable to stop the kidnapping.

Hannibal wanted to find Murdock and make sure he was okay. He wanted to know what was going on. And he wanted to vent his frustrations of the whole affair on the slimebags responsible for scaring the town and taking one of his people. He couldn't do any of them without more information.

Which was why they were heading toward Graham's Garage to speak to Terry. He had a lot of influence for a mere mechanic. He also seemed to know more about the town and the goings on than anyone else. Terry was at the same time the most and least helpful person they had encountered yet. Hannibal was suspicious of him. He couldn't get a handle on Terry's motives. Was he trying to help or hinder them? Was he not completely forthcoming because he was scared, didn't trust the team, or because he didn't want something found out? 

Hannibal opted for going in with their intentions abundantly clear. No scamming or beating around the bush this time. It would be a strictly front door confrontation.

Not surprisingly, BA didn't like the plan. The garage's proximity to the sheriff's office made him nervous. Hannibal didn't like it either, but his worry about Murdock overrode concern of the sheriff. It turned out to be a moot point. There were no cars on the driveway or parking lot of the sheriff's office. Now that the sun wasn't yet high enough to reflect off the windows, Hannibal could tell there were no lights on inside. He just hoped that would make their job easier.

They burst in on Terry, weapons drawn, and took up strategic positions in the garage's office. 

"Where's Murdock?" Hannibal demanded of the startled man while BA started closing the blinds on the window wall. "And what's going on?"

Terry, standing behind the counter, froze. He stared at the gun pointed in his direction for a long moment before answering.

"I don't…" The words came out barely above a whisper. Terry swallowed and tried again. "I don't know where he is." He looked Hannibal in the eye, his gaze steadier than his voice. "I wish I did."

"Uh, Hannibal?" From the nervous sound in Face's voice, Hannibal thought the situation had just gone down hill. "We have a problem."

MPs – it was too ingrained to be anything but a first thought. Except it was BA who had taken up position by the windows and door.

"What is it, kid?"

"I think you better come take a look."

Hannibal glanced over at him. Face was standing by the wall of pictures and certificates, staring at a set of framed items. He watched Terry as he moved to join Face. The mechanic hadn't moved a muscle since he saw the guns.

Hannibal looked at what had Face's undivided attention. It was a color photograph of a party being held outside the sheriff's building. "Congratulations, Terry," was written in gold ink across the top. On the bottom, with silver stars drawn on either side, was the message, "Thanks for taking over for me. Poor devil." Terry stood center stage in the photo, with a portly man presenting to him something that looked suspiciously like a badge.

Hannibal looked from the photo to Terry, to Face.

"Well, it makes sense," he said, a grin pulling at his lips. It certainly explained Terry's knowledge and behavior. 

"Makes sense!" Face repeated, sounding as if he couldn't quite believe his ears. "Hannibal, he's the _sheriff_!" 

BA turned away from the window with a puzzled frown. "Sheriff?" 

Terry shrugged. "Someone has to be." He acted as if the occupation didn't really matter. 

"Aw, Hannibal…" BA gave what sounded suspiciously like a Face whine.

"I don't know where Murdock is." Terry found his confidence. His voice no longer shook. There was only the barest of a hesitation before he added, "Colonel Smith."

Hannibal stood just a little bit straighter at the mention of his rank. Face and BA both brought their weapons to bear, as if the unarmed man had just become an even greater threat.

"Yes, I know who you are," Terry said, his voice wavering just slightly, as any sane man's would at have three guns pointed at him. "The infamous A-Team," he added, just to prove it. He never broke eye contact with Hannibal.

"If he knows who we are, that means the military will be on our tails any minute now." BA looked out the window with a sense of urgency, peering at everything with greater scrutiny.

"We can't just leave Murdock behind," Face said nervously. 

"We're not going to leave him," Hannibal said slowly, trying to reassure them both.

"I didn't call them." Three pairs of eyes looked disbelievingly at Terry. 

His gaze flicked to BA, settled a moment on Face, then returned to Hannibal. "For the same reason I became suspicious of you in the first place," Terry explained in response to the unasked question. He looked almost sheepish at all the attention. "Your concern for your friend Murdock when he first went missing. You seemed to avoid any mention of the Sheriff's office. Most people would want to at least file a missing persons report."

"So you went and looked us up."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Face asked for them all.

Terry shrugged again. "Like I said, I'm only the sheriff because someone has to be. I didn't want any trouble. I hoped you would all just leave when your friend came back. Then you started to look into the disappearances. I hoped you would help us."

No one said anything.

Terry swallowed hard again. "I've heard about the A-Team's reputation." 

The not quite question was greeted by mistrustful silence.

Terry looked at each one in turn. With deliberate slowness, he moved around the counter to approach them. "Look, there has been a disappearance once every week for the last two months. I've looked into every one of them. Murdock's abduction was on time. And he was returned. That's the pattern. Then you guys show up and all hell breaks loose. Sylvie didn't show up for work this morning, and she isn't at home, even though her car is there. No one's seen her since last night. It's too early for another disappearance, and there's never been two at the same time before. Never mind someone going missing twice!"

Convinced of Terry's concern, Hannibal lowered his weapon. A look at Face and BA and they reluctantly did likewise.

"Murdock didn't just disappear," Hannibal said. "He was taken."

"Taken?"

"Face saw them."

Terry looked at Face. "Green men?"

"Well, whatever they were wearing wase green," Face said.

Terry nodded. "That, at least, fits the pattern." He sighed. "Look, I'll be the first to admit I'm way out of my league here. Up till now the worst crime we've had was someone not paying for their gas before leaving. And the car tampering," he added sheepishly. BA glared at him at the reminder. "I'll do anything you need to help solve this," Terry promised. "I just want my quiet, quirky town back."

_ _ _ _

"Crazy fool could be anywhere out there," BA said. He stood looking out the wall of windows. He was no longer concerned about MPs. Yet his eyes paused at every building, vehicle, or place someone could be hidden. It was force of habit by now. "Man, we should be out there lookin' for him."

"We practically went door to door last time." Face flinched at his own words. Last time. Again. Well, now he knew how he slept through it. Face felt bad for feeling better that he had been drugged. "Nobody saw or knew anything then."

BA turned to face him. "Then we should search all the houses."

"No," Hannibal said. "Hard to hide things in a town like this, much less people. They wouldn't be kept in town."

"The base," BA said, remembering his misgivings at its close proximity.

"Do you know how long it would take to do a proper search of that place?" Face shook his head. Too long, even if they started that very moment. "Not to mention that they would know the territory better than we do. Might be booby-trapped."

"We're not going to search the base," Hannibal said. "Not yet."

"We're not?" Despite his previous rant, if it meant finding Murdock, Face would still be the first one over that particular fence.

"No." Hannibal lit a fresh cigar. Face and BA glanced at each other. They recognized the visual sign that Hannibal had an idea. "We've scared them, somehow, into changing their pattern. They're in a hurry now."

"Yes, but in a hurry to do what?" Face left unspoken the more important question: Why take so many people this time, Murdock included?

"Beats me," Hannibal said with a vague shrug. "We'll find out when we meet them." His smile was bright, but not pretty. It was similar to the one BA now wore, grinning at the prospect of letting his worry loose with his fists.

Terry kept a wary distance from the two. "I don't understand," he said softly to Face. He was the only one who seemed unsettled, if only a little, at the thought of a confrontation.

"He has a plan," Face answered. The twinkle in Hannibal's eyes confirmed Face's assessment.

"I think they're only hiding out right now," Hannibal explained. "Their real interests are in Major Aberdeen's place."

"How do you know this?" Terry asked, confused.

"Brandon told me."

"He talked to you?" Amazement raised Terry's eyebrows.

"Lots of light and noise." Hannibal said. "And all on the nights of the disappearances. They'll be back. And we'll be waiting." He paused for dramatic effect, exhaling smoke slowly. "But first we're going to need some supplies." Terry quickly provided the paper and pencil Hannibal requested. "You have any larger vehicles around here? Something we can all fit into?"

"What's wrong with my van?"

"They know what it looks like, BA," Hannibal said. "We don't want to completely scare them away. They might do something we won't like."

"Lucy has the moving van," Terry suggested.

"Perfect. Can't be too suspicious of someone taking care of his things." Hannibal finished scribbling the list of stuff he thought they would need and handed the paper to Face.

Face looked the list over. A small smile forming as he thought he could see where Hannibal was going with his plan. "Interesting collection of stuff."

"Think you can do it?"

"Of course," Face said, feigning hurt.

"Good." Hannibal patted Face's shoulder. "We'll meet you at Aberdeen's. Take BA with you. When you get the paint," he advised with a teasing glance at BA, "you better do the talking; BA might scare him away."

Interlude

The sounds of rustling plastic and shuffling feet woke him up.

"Face?" Murdock asked with a scratchy voice.

No, not Face. Face didn't… glow? Murdock blinked hard to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He still wasn't sure. The greenish thing remained. 

"Hello?" His voice quavered slightly.

It ignored him. Though he couldn't see the whole thing, it somehow gave the impression of bulk. It bent without seeming to get any smaller. There was a metallic clang. Murdock couldn't tell if it was picking something up, or putting it down. It straightened, retreated.

A door opened, letting in light too bright for his unsuspecting eyes.

"Hey!" Murdock protested both the pain in his eyes and being left alone. The door closed quietly, leaving him once again in the dark.

Murdock sighed, rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the colorful spots behind his lids. Didn't do much good. He was left in the kind of blinding dark where he couldn't tell if he had his eyes open or closed, except for the blinking. If there was a window, then it must be very dark outside, too.

Was it still night out? Maybe. But he remembered being outside, and even at night it was warmer than it was here. Where ever here was. At least it was pleasantly cool, a change from the heat of the last few days. 

Pushing himself up to a seated position proved difficult. The shoulder he had been laying on ached. Both arms were rubbery and didn't want to cooperate to push him up. He shook his head to help clear the inner fog. He smiled to himself at the thought, what a laugh, clearing fog to see better in the dark.

Well, this clearly wasn't the hotel anymore. And where was Face? Face had been with him the last he remembered. An image appeared in his mind with the feel of memory. The motel room… Face laying on the bed next to his… a bulky, round headed figure bent over him…. Murdock shook his head. That wasn't right. He and Face had been outside, watching the stars. They were starting to talk when the car came. 

But the image felt like memory, just as much as them standing out by the van. Which was right? Did they take Face too?

Murdock pushed himself to his feet. Swaying, he felt for a wall to lean against and use as a guide. His progress was slow and wobbly. The drunk-like sensation would have been fun had he not been worried for Face.

The room was small. Only the change in texture and the knob alerted him to the door. No light seeped through the seams. He felt no sign of windows during his circuit. Murdock was the only one who occupied the room. He was kept company by a metal tray he'd tripped over.

Murdock sat down to inspect it by touch. It held a small cup. Its cold contents didn't have an odor. A sandwich sat next to it. Peanut butter and jelly, from the smells of it. He wondered if it was drugged, then wondered why he was worried about being drugged when he already had been. But he was hungry, didn't know how long he'd been here, or how much longer he would remain. He had to keep his strength up for when the guys – hopefully with Face – came to spring him. 

Paper Trails

"Since we're over here, I want to stop at Dr. Wentworth's first." Terry started his pick-up. The air conditioner blared to life along with the motor. "There might be some clues." He angled one of the vents away from his face. 

"There was." Hannibal grinned at Terry's sharp look.

Terry looked about to say something, changed his mind. Frowned. "What did you find?"

"Do you know if he did tests, blood work on the victims?"

Terry nodded. "I recommended it to them. They've all come back negative across the board."

"Not according to the records we looked at," Hannibal said. "In fact, there was never even a mention of tests at all."

"That doesn't make sense. Doctor's write down everything." Terry thought a moment. "Unless-" He shook his head. "No, that still doesn't make sense. If I were trying to hide something, I'd at least make it look as if I were doing my job."

"Unless you didn't expect anyone to ever see the paperwork," Hannibal suggested.

"Still." Terry's gaze went down the street. "I still want to take a look." 

Hannibal put a hand out in a lead-the-way gesture.

They found the office unlocked. Terry frowned at this, but did not comment. It was predictably absent of doctor and clientele. Terry led the way directly to the files room.

"Whose files did you look at?" Terry asked. He interrupted Hannibal part way through the list when he heard a very familiar name. "You checked out my brother's? Why?" There was a mixture of annoyance and hurt on Terry's face.

"We were looking into all the angles," Hannibal answered truthfully.

"What did you find for him?" Terry's voice was quiet.

"No autopsy report."

Terry's brows crinkled. Without saying anything, he turned to the nearest filing cabinet. He pulled out a file, John Anglen's, and flipped through it. "There's a notation for blood tests ordered written in this file," Terry said, voice cool. "The results of the test are attached. Don't know what all of it means, but I don't see anything, uh, strange."

"It means the doctor doctored his reports," Hannibal said bluntly.

Terry hhmm'd noncommittally. He looked at the next file Hannibal had mentioned. David David's had a similar notation of a test being done, along with attached results. Ditto for Debra Laird. Terry took a deep breath before pulling out his brother's file.

"Still no autopsy report," Hannibal noted, looking over Terry's shoulder. 

Terry quietly pulled Major Aberdeen's file. Like Lewis's, there was a death certificate, but lacked any reports on a post-mortem. Terry put the files away before saying anything.

"Either Dr. Wentworth is a terrible records keeper," he said slowly, "or he's in on this. Whatever _this_ is."

"He's in on it," Hannibal said firmly.

"But then why mess with Lewis's file. Or Aberdeen's, for that matter?" Terry shook his head, answering himself. "Because they had something to do with it all, too. And I've been blind to it all along!" Terry kicked the filing cabinet then stalked out of the room. 

Hannibal followed. "You must have had some notion," he said upon finding Terry in the waiting room. "You came to demand Lewis's files, yesterday."

"You know of that too?" Terry demanded. "You sure know a lot about this." He sighed, shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, you're right," Terry said less belligerently. "But only because of all those questions you guys asked yesterday morning. I thought Lewis died of the drink. But it didn't occur to me till yesterday, Lewis was never sick."

Terry looked at Hannibal, quietly regarding him, then shifted his eyes away. He gave in to the urge to at last confess to the disturbing thought he'd had about his brother. "There's more. Lewis never believed in UFOs, he always regarded them as a joke. He'd disappear over night, then come back drunk and babbling. I never made the connection till yesterday. His drinking binges corresponded with the disappearances. I don't know which scares me more, the idea that he might have been a victim and I never believed him, or that he might've been a culprit in this whole mess to begin with."

Hannibal thought about this a moment. Whatever else Terry's brother may or may not have done, Hannibal was sure of one thing. "Lewis wasn't, and isn't, responsible for Murdock's abduction." That was the best he could offer Terry.

"You're right," Terry said with a sigh. "Doesn't make me feel any better," he said honestly. "But now I _really_ want to get to the bottom of things."

"Then let's get over to Major Aberdeen's house," Hannibal said. "Face won't be long. Unless they get lost," he added glibly. This earned him a chuckle from Terry. "And then we'll only have until dark to get ready. I want to take a look around before then.

"Right," Terry said with a nod and led the way again to the pick-up.

_ _ _ _

"I was surprised the door was locked," Hannibal said as they approached the house.

"That was my doing." Terry shrugged. "Most folks don't bother. Product of a small town." He parked the pick-up. "Brandon's the only one who locks things religiously," he said as they approached the front door. "Didn't do him much good with his paint."

Terry felt around on the top of the door frame, brought down a key. "Don't tell Brandon," he said. 

The house had the feel of a library; dark, quiet, brooding, a keeper of secrets. The front room was carpeted and sparsely furnished with a tv, table and small couch. The walls were papered with newspaper clippings. There were black and white pictures of unidentified flying objects, some with captions proclaiming them to be genuine aliens, some as military experiments, some as still unexplained. Each with their corresponding articles taped or tacked around them.

Terry looked rather embarrassed by it all. "He chose the right place to live," he said with a one shouldered shrug.

Having one obsession, Hannibal thought, was probably easier to live with. Hannibal wondered what Murdock would think of all this. Probably depended upon whatever fancy he was entertaining at the time. 

"Does anything look out of place from the last time you saw it?" he asked.

Terry shook his head. He ran a finger on the table and held it up. "More dust," he offered unhelpfully.

With the exception of the study, every other room was just as spare as the front one, only decorated with the usual bland paint. The study, with its fireplace and many bookshelves, seemed crammed in comparison. An easy chair sat near the fireplace. An immaculately clean, save for the dust, wooden desk and an accompanying rickety looking chair took up half the room.

Hannibal prudently ignored the chair as he started opening drawers in the desk. The usual junk drawer supplies in one. A drawer full of magazines and yet more UFO clippings. The file drawer caught Hannibal's interest, but it was locked.

"I think I want to see what's in there," Terry said, intrigued.

Terry didn't have a key. A search around the desk and study failed to produce one. Using a crow bar from Terry's pick-up, they jimmied it open. The large drawer contained only two items: a hand gun, and a spiral-bound notebook. The gun was loaded. Hannibal checked the safety, handed it to Terry. The notebook was almost used up.

"Looks like a doctor's handwriting." Hannibal frowned at the scribble. "I can hardly make it out." And what he could read looked like a mix of a foreign language and a code of some sort.

"Let me see." Hannibal handed the notebook to Terry. "Looks like Dr. Wentworth's writing," he commented after a moment's study. "Like an experiment log, or something. Why would Aberdeen have Wentworth's logs?"

"Friends?" Hannibal guessed.

"Not really. Neither socialized much."

"Then maybe Aberdeen had something to do with the experiment. Does it say what it was about?"

Terry frowned as he tried to decipher the doctor's scrawl. "Looks like something about a drug." He skimmed over pages at random. "No names. I think he's using code for some of this stuff." He stopped at a page closer to the front.

"What?" Hannibal asked at Terry's sharp intake of breath.

" '…may be related to excessive alcohol consumption…' " Terry read softly. He looked at Hannibal, confusion in his eyes. "I think he's talking about Lewis." He studied the lines around the passage that jumped out at him. "Gibberish," he muttered. "Something I think is 'responds', then '…remarkably well to commands given, more so than most.' – '…possibly susceptible…' – '...incomplete memory loss...' I don't get this!"

Hannibal made a move to take the notebook. Terry stepped back. He flipped pages, tearing one in his haste. He ignored the error, kept going, reading snatches aloud. "…subject reports illness akin to motion sickness … subject reports confusion, partial memory loss … did not respond to verbal commands, and had to physically be shown … no recollection of testing … too young to make a proper determination…"

Terry held the book up and shook it. "Do you know who he's talking about?"

"Our temporarily missing persons?" Hannibal guessed, eyes narrowing.

"I'd bet my bottom dollar on it." Terry slapped the notebook closed. "I can't believe this. He's… he's performing _experiments_ on people, like some dark ages doctor or something." Terry shook his head, trying to clear it of the unwelcome idea. "They never even volunteered."

Terry paced over to the easy chair, sat, took a deep breath, and told himself to calm down. "What I really don't get," he started, "is why he left it here?"

"Stupidity will get you every time," Hannibal said. It was one of the A-Team's specialties to use such stupidity to their advantage.

"No, I mean _here_," he pointed to the ground, "In Aberdeen's house. Why not in Wentworth's own home? Or his office?"

"I think they performed some of the," Hannibal didn't like saying the word, "_experiments_ here." Brandon reported a lot of activity here. "Maybe Aberdeen had a part in it."

Terry turned pages in an absent manner. "I never figured Aberdeen for that kind of thing," he sighed.

Hannibal had no answer to that.

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

Terry's eyes were on a page he held up, ready to complete the turn. "He did have a part in it," Terry said. "He was another non-volunteer. Listen to this. '…is known to have issues with reality. These results may be a result of mental instability.' "

Hannibal felt his jaws tighten and a chill run down his spine. That passage could have been about Murdock. "What results. When?"

Terry put the page back so it laid flat. He studied it a bit longer before speaking again.

"… variable results with this subject. Sometimes words are taken very literally, sometimes he follows the common vernacular. For example, 'shut up' will stop him talking. 'Be quiet' will only stop him talking about half the time. The other half he will just speak softer. …uncertain if subject has a natural tolerance, or if he's fighting it. If fighting… a learned capability? …known military background… …is known to have issues with reality…"

Terry stopped reading. "It's early on in the notebook," he said after a pause. "The poor man tried to tell us and we never believed him."

They looked up at the sound of honking.

"That should be Face and BA," Hannibal said. "I'll go get them started. See if you can figure this stuff out anymore."

Terry nodded, resumed looking through the notebook. 

Face smiled at Hannibal from the passenger side of a moving van. BA, now out of the cab, had clearly been driving. There was no sign of a second vehicle.

"Where'd you leave the van?"

Face hopped out of the moving van, looking pleased with himself. "Brandon let us stash it at his place." Brandon's work area wasn't far from the Aberdeen place, and there was very little chance of anyone noticing the van from the main road in. They didn't want to scare their quarry away by letting them know they were there. Not till they had Murdock back.

"Good, we'll hide Terry's there, as well."

"Hannibal," Face started, reminded of the recent embarrassment, "why didn't you tell me the guy doesn't talk? He had us at gun point and just stared at us for five minutes."

"Wasn't that long," BA said.

"It felt like it was that long," Face corrected, with an unappreciative look at BA. Okay, so the staring match might have lasted a whole minute, tops, before BA became impatient with the silence. "But the man can stare, Hannibal," Face went on with his complaint. "It was creepy. I thought I had a big stain on my shirt, or something." Face absently brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. He didn't catch BA rolling his eyes at him.

They followed Hannibal to the back of the moving van, Face rambling the whole time. "And I don't know what you meant about BA scaring the guy. BA was the only one he'd talk to. I just got stared at."

"Face?" Hannibal turned around suddenly, causing Face to backpedal in order to avoid running into him. "Did you get the supplies?"

"Yeah, we got them."

"Good," Hannibal said in a tone Face correctly interpreted as 'now be quiet'. 

BA opened up the back. Hannibal climbed in to inspect their supplies. In the far end, laid cross wise, were several poles. A couple of heavy duty lights. Coils of cabled wire. Some of the cable had become entwined with the lights. Closer to the door were two cans of paint with an expensive sounding brand name. 

"Pink?" Hannibal asked, lifting a brow at Face.

Face smiled vaguely. "It was all he had left that glowed in the dark."

Hannibal shrugged. Pink, green, yellow, red, it didn't matter. Just so long as it served it's purpose as a distraction. One of the paint cans had slid into and dented a cardboard box. Inside the box was a paint sprayer. He'd underestimated BA's powers of persuasion. Hannibal had half expected Brandon to turn them down flat, and for Face to have to acquire the paint by other means. Instead, they not only got the paint, but supplies for it, and a place to hide the van. No wonder Face was grumbling, he was afraid he was losing his touch to BA.

Underneath the paint sprayer were a couple of costumes. "Uh, Face?" Hannibal held up a plastic gown and matching mask in question.

"It's a small town, Hannibal," Face said defensively. "I had to use what's on hand. Besides, the Lairds volunteered them."

Hannibal wasn't sure he wanted to know how they came to volunteer Halloween costumes, so he didn't ask. But he was a little concerned about the number. "Only two?"

"Last year's models," Face explained. "They hadn't gotten rid of them yet." Meaning they didn't keep the year before's.

"Okay. So only two of us will be wearing them." Murdock, who loved to do such things, wasn't there. So Hannibal looked at his newest volunteer.

BA, knowing exactly what that look meant, scowled. "I ain't wearin' no pink suit."

Hannibal smiled. Face couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. "But you'd look good in pink, BA." BA glowered back at him.

"And this one just might fit you, kid." Hannibal held up the costume that went with the Princess Leia mask.

"Hannibal!" Face protested. BA giggled. 

The Green Men

He felt like he was flying. Which was ridiculous, of course, because he could still feel the concrete pressing firmly at his back. That's what floors did, push against you, constantly remind you of being grounded. Though the reminder was usually foot felt. But he was laying, not standing, and definitely not flying.

The circuitous thought made Murdock's head spin. Or would have made it spin if it hadn't been attached to his body. But if it wasn't attached….

'Stop it!' Murdock winced at the loud thought. With some drugs it was just better not to think. This must be one of them. Trouble was, there was nothing else to do in his black cell. So, Murdock supposed, he was just going to have to think very, very quietly…. "Becwas I'm huntin' that wascally wabbit," Elmer Fud whispered back at him.

Murdock snorted, then groaned. How was he supposed to think this out if he wasn't thinking straight. Would thinking crooked help?

What did they give him? Nothing fatal, it seemed; unless tangent-itis was fatal. In which case he was dead and didn't know it yet.

Nah, he definitely wasn't dead. He was pretty sure ghosts didn't feel hunger. How long has it been since he ate last? Could have been an hour ago, could have been a day. Either way, the sandwich hadn't been filling, and the slightly salty water only left him thirstier. That was probably how he got drugged. Murdock wished he knew why he'd been drugged.

Light fell on him. 'Shouldn't that hurt?' he wondered, when only his eyes were affected. Murdock cocked his head to a side and looked through watering eyes at the source.

"Hey, big green guy," Murdock greeted the bulky figure framed by the doorway. "What're we doin'?"

The figure didn't answer. It regarded him for a moment, the silence punctuated only by Darth Vader-esque breathing. Murdock began to wonder if he'd been cast in some bad Star Wars remake, with him as… who? Luke Skywalker? Han Solo?

"You know," he started, squinting up at the figure, "you got the breathing down just right. But the color…" Murdock clucked his tongue a couple of times. "The color is all wrong. You should be black. The bad-guys always wear black. Well, they do if the film maker's making things easy," Murdock rambled.

The green man stepped further inside, moving over to let more light in from the hall.

"Get up," he demanded. It was a male sounding voice. Familiar somehow. 

"Not menacing enough," Murdock mumbled. He struggled to push himself to a seated position. For a change, the floor didn't want to push back. "It should be deeper," Murdock went on, hoping the talk would hide the disconnectedness of his limbs. "Like this." Murdock lowered his voice in his best BA imitation, "Get up."

Now sitting, Murdock put his arms on his head, willing it to stay attached. It wouldn't do him any good to lose it now. He groaned at the image the thought produced. Not pretty.

"Get up!" the green man said again, sounding much more impatient.

"Yeah, that's more like it," Murdock said encouragingly, smiling up from between his elbows.

The green man made an inarticulate noise. He tried again, managing to sound meaner. "Stand up!" He pushed one gloved hand forward, pointedly.

"Okay. You just had to say so." Murdock slowly climbed to his feet. The care he took in his movements wasn't for fear of the gun pointed at him, nor to show he was essentially harmless. He was unsettlingly uncertain about his limbs; he wasn't sure if they were going to decide to part company with him or not. He also feared if he pushed too hard, he'd launch himself into the air. Murdock loved to fly, but he didn't know how to without his precious machines. He tried focusing on other things – like drawing parallels with a familiar fantasy.

"What kind of light-saber is that?" Murdock frowned at the gun.

His question was answered by a click of the safety release. 

Murdock shrugged carefully; too fast and his shoulders might keep going. "Guess one for the dark side, huh?"

"Move," the figure demanded once Murdock was safely on his feet.

"But I already am," Murdock said, confused. And confused about being confused. "See?" He pointed to his chest and took an extra deep breath. "I'm breathing, and my eyes are blinking, and my lips are moving, and…"

"Shut up!" the figure growled in a tone not unlike BA's when Murdock pushed him too far.

Murdock snapped his mouth closed.

Very slowly and deliberately, the green man told Murdock exactly what he wanted him to do. "Walk out the door, turn left, and keep walking."

"Okay." Murdock did just as he was told. Slowly. If he moved too fast, he might push himself into the ceiling. The green man followed noisily behind him.

Murdock wished he knew why he was following orders so complacently. He should turn around and try to overpower the green man. He'd have surprise on his side – if he didn't fall apart at the seams first. The more Murdock thought about it, the harder it was to make himself do anything. So he did as he was told and walked.

The hall had the familiar institution feel, all concrete and fluorescent lights. Not a hospital, he was sure. It took more than years of dust to cover up the lingering odors of antiseptics and – shudder at the thought – ammonia. But the hall could have belonged to some long disused military building, or a big school. It was obvious the place hadn't been inhabited until recently. The walls were grey coated, punctuated here and there with patches of living green. Some of the lights flickered, or were dim where one of the pair of bulbs had gone out. Murdock could see tracks through the dust on the floor.

They came to a t-crossing. One side wasn't lit. On a whim, Murdock turned that way. A gloved hand took hold of his upper arm and pulled him down the lit section of the hall.

"Choose the light side of the force," Murdock intoned softly, shrugging off the grip.

They went through two sets of double doors, and were outside. It was dark, pleasant compared to the heat of the last few days, and very quiet. Glowing softly off to one side was another green man. And a shadow.

"Is he ready?" A feminine voice asked. It wasn't muffled, like the green man's, so Murdock assumed it came from the shadow.

Murdock's green man grunted. "Not the easiest to control," he said sourly.

The second green man stirred. "Fighting it?" His voice was familiar, even muffled under the helmet.

"If you consider crazy talk fighting," Murdock's man groused. "Thinks this is a movie."

The second green man moved away from the wall and the shadow. "Hhmm," he said, sounding much like a mad scientist confronted with an interesting problem.

"Did you give him the right stuff?" the female voice asked. 

"Doesn't work the same on everyone," the second green man said, head bobbing. Murdock felt a bug under glass. "It's in my notes."

"Which I don't have," the female sneered. A faint click was all the warning Murdock had to the activation of a flashlight. He blinked into the ghostly light and saw Sylvie.

"The waitress?" Murdock asked aloud. Well, why not a waitress? Except she didn't exactly fit his image of this film. "What's your part?"

"This had better hold till we're out of here," Sylvie said, ignoring Murdock except to give him a very unamused looked. 

"We have all night," the second green man, with the annoyingly familiar voice, said. Then added, "Besides, we have more if we need a second dose."

"We _don't_ have all night," Sylvie snapped. "We only have until his friends decide to do something." 

Sylvie turned the flashlight up into Murdock's face. "And I'll remember them," she threatened.

"And you." The flashlight over to illuminate the second green man. "You had better get your notes back. Or don't bother coming in."

"We need him," Murdock's green man said unhappily. "Even without his notes, he has all that information in his head."

Sylvie sighed heavily. "Fine. _You_ explain that to the big guns when you get back. Along with why we didn't leave at the first sign of trouble. I prefer to keep my skin.

"You," Sylvie tapped the second green man with the flashlight, "go clean up your mess. You," now she gestured to Murdock's man, "make sure he does it. After that, I don't care what you do." With that, she turned the flashlight toward the ground, and walked off into the night.

The second green man compensated for the lack of light by turning on his own flashlight. "She's not happy," he muttered.

"You lost your notes and we have a mess. What did you expect?"

"They're not lost," the second green man muttered. "I just didn't expect things to move so fast."

"Right. Whatever." Murdock's green man finally let go of him. He snatched the flashlight from the second green man. "Where're the samples?"

A green arm gestured toward the wall. "Over there."

Murdock's green man retreived what looked like a cooler. "You take him," he said, pushing Murdock toward the second green man. "I'm tired of his nonsense."

"Fine." The second green man sounded miffed. He held out a thick, glowing hand. Murdock's green man, hands full, didn't move. He gave a noise that sounded lie a growl, gave the second green man the gun, then stalked away.

"Howard," the second green man called. Was that the first green man's name?

The green man sighed heavily. Louder, he said, "Howard Miller Murdock."

Murdock's brows went up at the mention of his name at the end of the list. Were there others here, too? People named…. Oh. Murdock groaned at his sluggishness. Howard Miller was the name he'd given the doctor earlier- whenever, when Wentworth questioned Murdock's name. 

So Dr. Wentworth either talked to the second green man, or he was the second green man. That might explain why his voice sounded familiar. Murdock mentally slapped his forehead. Of course. Drugs should be administered by a doctor, and a doctor would easily be believed if he said someone hadn't been drugged when they really were. And Wentworth's files had all the clues. Why hadn't they been watching this guy?

"What's your name?" This time the second green man, or rather, Dr. Wentworth posing as a green man, was clearly addressing Murdock.

"Murdock."

"Right," Wentworth sighed. "Murdock, follow me."

Murdock did. They went a little ways along paved ground. It was too dark for Murdock to tell if it was a road or parking lot or what. It didn't really matter, but it gave Murdock something to think about while walking between two glowing green men.

Before long, they came to an area lit by camping lamps. The lamps surrounded a giant… something.

"What is it?"

"Our UFO," the first green man said in all seriousness. 

Murdock snorted. He couldn't help himself. It wasn't a UFO, that was for sure. It looked more like a trash bag. A full trash bag. Draped over something. Finally Murdock's eyes took in the rest, the pilots bubble sticking out of the bag on one side, the tail rotor hiding in the shadows form the other side. It was only the middle that was so gaudily clad. How the heck did they do that?

The first green man took Murdock by the arm and pulled him closer to the chopper. 

"What're we doing?"

"Leaving." He waved the flashlight at the chopper. "You're going to fly us." 

"I don't fly trash bags." The statement sounded idiotic. Moreover, it wasn't true. Murdock would go up in anything, if it allowed him to touch the sky. He just didn't want to go up in that thing. It was ugly. And besides, they wanted him to.


	5. Day Four B

Encounters  
Day Four: (continued)

Close Encounters

The night was, thankfully, cool. The inside of the moving van, however, was not. Face wished for wind. The outside comfort refused to penetrate, despite the many breathing holes drilled in strategic spots around the body. Too many holes. Lucy wasn't going to be happy.

Face pressed his eyes close to one. It was dark and quiet. Nothing happening. Nothing had been happening for what felt like a long time. He was beginning to worry they weren't going to show. If they didn't show, then he was wearing this embarrassing outfit for nothing. And they would be a day further behind in finding Murdock. And Face would have to deal with an already grumpy BA without the help of their crazy pressure valve.

While putting together Hannibal's plan, BA had done the more physically demanding parts in growling silence and with more force than was necessary. The plan was tame, as far as Hannibal's plans went. Aside from Wentworth, they didn't know who their opponent was, how many they were, and what forces they possessed. Otherwise, the plan would no doubt have been much more intricate and definitely more destructive. Face just hoped it worked, one way or another, or BA would likely provide the destruction part himself. And Face might just join him.

"Anything yet?" Hannibal asked, startling Face out of his reverie on tension release.

Face moved in the direction of the sound. It was darker inside than out. They didn't have flashlights because they didn't want to alert anyone to their presence before it was time to spring the surprise. All that saved Face and BA from blindness was the silly pink costumes they wore. Costumes Hannibal avoided wearing by placing himself indoors. He and Terry were to ambush whoever showed in the house. 

"Face," Hannibal said again.

Face found where he had set the radio down. It was a dark shadow in the vague pink light of his costume. He found the appropriate button by touch, and spoke into it. "Not yet. Are you sure they're going to come?"

"They'll come," Hannibal assured him. "They aren't going to leave these papers behind."

"They might have copies."

"Incriminatingly handwritten?"

True, Face thought. If you were going to destroy any important documents, first go for the ones with your signature on it, then for the ones with your own writing. Everything else could conceivably be defensible as forgeries. Assuming you were ever caught in whatever it was those documents were about.

On the other side of the van, Face saw a large pink shape stir. That was another reason BA wasn't in a good mood. It was a dreadful color, and neither of them looked good in it.

"What's that?" BA asked.

"What?"

"That noise. Shhh."

They concentrated on the noises outside the moving van. Face didn't hear anything and said so. 

"It's coming from this side," BA said. He had the doors open a crack. Face poked his head, minus the mask, outside. He saw a very clear night sky, an oblong shadow belonging to the tilted tree, another shadow that was the house, and an expanse of nothingness in-between. He heard nothing more than crickets.

He pulled his head back in. "BA, I think you're hearing things." No sooner were the words out of his mouth, did he hear something too.

"I ain't hearing…"

Face put a hand up. "Shhh."

The something was getting louder. "You have good hearing," Face admitted a moment later. "But what is it?"

"Company."

Face peered out again. He didn't see anything coming up the road. And there wasn't a road through the backyard, which was the direction the noise seemed to be coming from. It was a familiar noise, like a helicopter, only with a rattle he'd never heard on a helicopter before.

His eyes went sky ward. If it was a chopper, he should be able to see it anytime now. He didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to fly in the dark without lights. As the noise became louder – that rattle couldn't be healthy – he could pick it out in the distance. A spot of white light sweeping the ground below it. 

It came in low, and it came in fast. The spot of light grew into a bright flash, nearly blinding Face as it swept over them. The light switched during the sweep, leaving a…. Face rubbed his eyes. He wasn't just seeing spots. The ugliest thing he'd ever seen did a lazy circle over them. It looked like a great big, giant, glowing… garbage bag. A blown up, rippling, glowing, giant garbage bag.

So that's what a homemade UFO looked like.

Face watched, open mouthed, as it settled gently to the ground at the far end of the tilted tree.

"Uh, Colonel," Face belatedly told the radio, "Company's coming." Just in case they hadn't already heard the noise.

The noise from the garbage bag was tremendous, even inside the moving van. A disturbance in the rippling bag preceded the emergence of a familiar green tinged figure, possibly even the same one Face had failed to fight off the previous night. It approached the house, slowed near the van, then hurried on its way again.

"Hannibal, you have a bogie coming in."

Hannibal acknowledge. "Do you have a count?"

"Negative." It annoyed Face that he couldn't see through the bag and into the chopper. He really wanted to know how many, if anybody, was in there. And one in particular. "And no sign of Murdock yet."

A second green-suited figure exited the bag as the first rounded the corner to the front of the house. The second one paused for the longest moment, waiting for who knew what. Part of the green disappeared into the fluttering bag, pulled out another person. The third person, not clad in anything bright, bulky or glowing, was a mere silhouette against the lit bag. The green man moved away from the garbage bag. The silhouette seemed reluctant to follow. The green man pulled at it, gestured with his free hand, and pulled again. Silhouette followed the green man, though at a slower pace, as they, too, headed toward the house.

They finally came close enough to see who the silhouette was. Murdock. Face glanced at BA, who nodded in silent agreement. They put on the ridiculous masks – Face with a self conscious grimace – and jumped out of the truck.

The green man froze in surprise. Murdock bumped into him before stopping too. Murdock looked at the luminescent green with the firm grip on his arm, to the two flowing pinks doing a good job out-luminescing the green. And giggled. He knew this was a serious matter. Everybody had guns except him, and one of those ones was very unfriendly. But he just couldn't help himself; he giggled again. 

Loudly, to be heard over the chopper, he voiced the first association to come to mind. "What is this, a Star Wars pajama party?" 

"Let him go," an appropriately mean sounding BA voice shouted at him. Now _that_ was a commanding voice. Only one trouble.

"I'm not holding him."

Face and BA exchanged puzzled looks at Murdock's querulous reply.

The green man tightened his grip on Murdock's arm, and pulled back two steps. The gun wavered uncertainly, first pointing at Murdock's middle, then at Face and BA. Face put a restraining hand on BA's shoulder to prevent him from advancing on their opponent. The person was obviously indecisive, and Face didn't want to scare him (her?) into doing something they would all regret. Face thought he'd try reason, first.

"You're outnumbered and outgunned." It sounded preposterous even to his own ears. 

Murdock nodded vigorously.

The green man stepped back further, pulling Murdock along. It said something Face didn't catch, then pushed Murdock forward. With a strange look on his face, Murdock plowed into BA, nearly knocking the bigger man off balance.

Face spared them a confused glance before using the opportunity to go after the green man. The green man seemed surprised by the idea; it jumped without moving. The gun, now more aimed at the ground than any particular person, came up. Face grabbed the wrist with both hands, pushed it out and up. He tried to wrestle the gun from the gloved hand while still keeping hold of his own. Not an easy task. It was made even less easy when the figure kicked him in the shin. Reflexively, Face pulled the injured leg out of harm's way, over balanced forward, leaned against the arm he was holding. The gun went off, puncturing through the noise of the still running chopper. 

The green man twisted and punched Face in the side, just below the ribs. Despite the gloved padding, it hurt. So did the second one in the same vicinity. Face tried twisting away without giving up his hold on the gun hand. He unintentionally leaned further into the arm. Face thought he felt something pop. The green man howled. The gun fell to the ground. Unfortunately, Face lost hold of his own, as well. 

With a force born of pain and fury, the green man landed a punch on the solar-plexus. Face fell to his knees, gasping. The green man retrieved one of the guns. Awkwardly, but effectively, he clubbed the back of Face's head with it. Face hit the dusty ground face first, and didn't get up.

BA, meanwhile, had been contending with Murdock. Once they had regained their balance, Murdock pulled the gun from BA's startled grasp. Murdock dropped the gun. He didn't bother to throw it. He just needed his hands free and couldn't think of anything else to do with it at the time. Murdock grabbed one of BA's arm and proceeded to pull on it with all his might, while at the same time trying to step on BA's feet.

BA was stunned by these untoward actions. He couldn't figure out what to make of this behavior, weird even by Murdock's standards. He moved back a few steps in an attempt to save his feet from Murdock's stamping. 

"Murdock, what are ya doing?" BA yanked his arm back in an attempt to repossess it. Murdock didn't let go. He stumbled forward with the jerk, gathered his balance, and started the strange dance on BA's feet while pulling his arm.

Murdock's face was twisted up in a strange grimace. Breathing heavily, Murdock said, "He said 'Jump on the big guy and disarm him'," as if that provided all the explanation needed.

"I don't care what he said!" BA bellowed, utterly confused and mad at being confused. "Stop it!" BA shook his arm. As unnerved as he was by Murdock's behavior, BA was unwilling to take any extreme measures. "Let go a me!"

Miraculously, Murdock did. However, he'd been leaning far back at the moment BA gave the order, and so fell on his back. Murdock scrambled to his feet, went back to dancing on BA's.

Gun fire rang through the clattering rumble of the chopper. BA saw Face struggling with the green figure. BA firmly took Murdock by the shoulders and pushed him out of the way. He would go help Face and worry about Murdock's excessive weirdness later. Except the excessive weirdness wouldn't let him wait till later. Murdock danced around him and started stepping on BA's feet again.

"Murdock," BA growled in warning. He none too gently pushed Murdock to the side again. Again Murdock sprang back to assault his feet. "What's gotten into you, fool?" BA shouted, not so much to be heard as to let off steam.

"Drugs, I think," Murdock answered.

"What?" BA stepped back in shock, remembering the papers Hannibal and Terry had found. Something that appeared to be experiment logs. 

Murdock followed his backward step doggedly.

"Would you quit steppin' on my feet?"

"I'm not stepping," Murdock said carefully, his face twisted with some internal effort. "I'm jumping on them."

"Well quit jumpin' on me!"

Murdock stepped back. "That's all you had to say," he said with a noise that sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a cry. He bent over, his hands resting on his thighs, tried to catch his breath. "Please don't ask me to do anything."

BA didn't have a chance to ponder the puzzling plea. He noticed Face had lost the struggle with the green man. "Wait here," he told Murdock and went off to deal with their opponent.

Murdock nodded.

The green man, despite being the only one with a weapon in hand, panicked. "Murdock, help me!" 

"I don't want to," Murdock groaned, but started toward them anyway.

BA noticed the movement, stopped. "Wait where you're at, Murdock."

Murdock, gratefully, stopped.

The green man didn't like that. "Come here, Murdock."

Murdock grimaced, started forward again. 

"Murdock, stop!" BA ordered.

Murdock froze in place. "Would you make up your minds?" he shouted in frustration.

"I need your help," the green man said, backing away from BA. "Come to me and help, Murdock."

Murdock groaned but did as he was told.

BA grabbed Murdock's arm, stopping the forward motion. "What's wrong with you, Murdock?" Murdock still tried to keep going.

"I can't help it," Murdock said.

"Be quiet, Murdock," the green man ordered.

Murdock lowered his voice almost too far for BA to hear. "I have to do everything he says. I can't…"

The green man shouted, "Shut up!"

Murdock's jaw snapped closed on anything else he was about to say. He gave BA a helpless look even as he tried to pull from BA's grip. 

"Stay here," BA said sternly. He let go of Murdock, who stayed put.

BA turned to the green man. "_You_ shut up!"

The green man blindly backed away. "Murdock…"

"Cover your ears," BA hollered over whatever the green man was about to say. Murdock's hands flew to his ears, a look of amazed gratitude on his face.

"And you," BA stalked toward the retreating green man, "leave Murdock alone."

"Murdock, help me!" The green man screeched.

Murdock, hands over his ears and his eyes screwed closed, remained motionless.

"Stay away from me," the green man told BA. His backpedaling turned him so he was now heading away from them. He suddenly remembered the gun. 

The gun shook miserably. Luckily for BA, it was ill-aimed. The shot missed.

"Don't come any closer!" The green man cried. He corrected his aim. Just as he was about to fire again, the flood lamps came on. The entire yard lit up, drowning out the light from the chopper. It hurt BA's eyes, and he had his back to them. As if the light were a tangible force, the green man stumbled backwards. His good arm covered the tinted face plate of his helmet.

BA surged forward and knocked the gun from the green man's gloved hand. The green man brought his arm down, blindly hit at BA. BA directed his own toward the green man's middle, causing him to double over. He aimed a blow toward the green man's head with the intention of knocking him out. The green man moved to push himself up, and BA's hand instead connected with the shoulder Face had already injured. The green man let out a squeak that was somehow heard over the background racket, then passed out.

BA returned to Face and Murdock. Face was sitting up, mask off, rubbing his neck. "Almost forgot about the remote," he said apologetically when BA came within hearing distance. 

BA went to Murdock's side. He pulled one of Murdock's hands down. "It's okay now. You can listen now."

Murdock opened one eye, looked around. His hands fell away from his head as he opened both eyes and nodded.

"You can talk now," BA said. Then, remembering the earlier altercations, added, "If you want to."

Murdock nodded again. "Thanks, BA." A pause, then, "Pink is not your color, big guy."

BA irritably pulled the pink painted mask from his face. 

"Why am I always the one getting knocked out?" Face complained to the world at large. This was the third time in as many days, and definitely the most painful of them. He gingerly rubbed the back of his head, then his ears.

Murdock and BA knelt next to him. 

"You alright, Faceman?" BA asked.

"Yeah," Face groaned. "Except my ears are ringing." He raised his voice so he could hear it over the ringing. "Loudly."

"Not your ears, Face," Murdock said. "The old whirlybird's still going."

Face frowned. Oh, the ugly glowing garbage bag. "Well, turn it off." Murdock got up to do just that. Face muttered to BA, "What a headache."

"Wish you hadn't done that," BA said, watching Murdock rush toward the chopper.

"What?" Face asked, confused.

"Told Murdock what to do."

"I didn't tell him what to do," Face protested. "I asked. Sort of." Face shook his head, wondering why he was arguing this. "He knew what I meant."

"I don't know."

"Huh?"

The thunder and clatter of the chopper finally died away. 

_ _ _ _

The windows rattled in sympathy with the rumble of the chopper. They left it running; the slimebags must not intend to be here long. One of them came in the front door even as the thought crossed Hannibal's mind. And the slimebag, for a change, looked like a bag the color of slime – slime that happened to glow. Ugly, man shaped, and without even the common courtesy to shut the door.

The green man maneuvered his way through the front room in the dark. Hannibal inched out from behind the door. He watched the green man move unerringly to the study and open that door without hesitation. Terry must've been in the proper place; there was no uproar when the green man turned on the light.

Hannibal quietly approached the study, avoiding by experience the one board with the penchant for squeaking. He heard a drawer being opened and closed, then another. The third drawer was slammed. Loud cursing. Hannibal made it to the door in time to see the helmet skitter across the desk and fall to the floor. 

The body belonging to the balding head wore a bulky suit of the hazardous material sort. It had been painted an uneven glow-in-the-dark neon green. And a shoddy paint job, at that. Bits of the original material peeked through here and there, and the paint was peeling around the joints. It looked like something from the set of one of the movies Hannibal liked to play in. No doubt the silly get-up did its job of confusing, if not scaring, already drug disoriented people.

The green man had his back to the door. Hannibal leaned against the door frame, waiting for a good moment to announce his presence. He was pleased by the annoyed noises the man made. The green man pulled the largest bottom drawer out of the desk and up ended its contents onto the floor. Hannibal and Terry had stuffed it full of clipping and books. As he sorted impatiently through the paper clutter, the green man directed his curses toward Wentworth in particular.

"Looking for these?" Hannibal asked, holding up the notebook in one black-gloved hand, and his gun in the other.

The man jumped and spun around. He, too, had a hand gun. 

"Interesting reading material," Hannibal said. 

The man looked at the notebook and narrowed his eyes. He looked familiar. Hannibal was sure he'd seen the man before, at the diner, wearing a completely different and only slightly less conspicuous suit. 

Terry stepped out from behind the door. These people really needed to look in the obvious places, Hannibal thought, but didn't say so. "Billy Joe?" Terry asked incredulously.

"Who'd you expect?" Billy Joe asked facetiously. "Little green men?" He stood slowly, mindful of the two-to-one odds.

"What are you doing?"

Billy Joe eyed the notebook. "Retrieving that."

"Why?"

"So we don't get caught," Billy Joe said, giving Terry a withering glance.

"Too late," Hannibal said, returning the withering look. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

Billy Joe smiled at Hannibal. "Maybe not."

"Why are you doing this?" Terry expanded on his original question. "What's in it for you?"

"Money. In a few years I'm going to be a very rich man." He regarded Hannibal and Terry for a moment. "My employers pay very handsomely," he said suggestively.

Terry stiffened. "I don't need the money. And even if I did, I'm picky about where it comes from."

"Suit yourself." Billy Joe looked expectantly at Hannibal.

Hannibal regarded him with cold eyes. "I'd like to meet your employers."

Billy Joe smiled. "Easily arranged. As soon as we fly out of here."

"You're just forgetting one thing."

"Your friend," Billy Joe said. "We need him right now. You can have him back after we leave."

"Then I keep this," Hannibal jiggled the notebook, "till he comes back." 

"Then…" Billy Joe looked nervous. Then smug. "Give me the notebook and you come with us. Get your man back and meet your new employers at the same time."

Hannibal was silent for a long moment. Without a word, he tossed the notebook to Billy Joe.

"Are you out of your mind?" Terry hollered.

"I can use the money," Hannibal said, imitating Terry's shrug. He moved to one side, leaving the door exposed. Eyes on Billy Joe, Hannibal used his gun to gesture toward the door.

"But the man's performing illegal testing," Terry protested. "Maybe even murder."

As if to emphasize the point, there was the sound of a gun shot.

Billy Joe, suddenly suspicious, narrowed his eyes at Hannibal while backing away from the two of them. "What is this?"

Hannibal grinned. "Making my own bargain."

"This is a set up," Billy Joe said, his tone a combination of surprise and disgust.

"Smart, isn't he?" Hannibal said to Terry.

"Not really." 

Billy Joe, panicked, ran for the doorway. He collided with Terry and they both went down just outside the study. The notebook went flying, as did one of the guns. Terry and Billy Joe grappled for the remaining gun. They rolled, random legs colliding with the door frame. Billy Joe achieved possession, attempted to bring it to bear on Terry. Terry shoved his arm back with all his strength. The gun went off. 

The bullet grazed the door frame, just inches from Hannibal, showering him with wood chips. The struggling men rolled again, one of them kicking Hannibal. Between the assaults, he was forced to move back.

Billy Joe lost the gun to Terry. Before Terry could use the advantage, Billy Joe caught him in the jaw with a solid punch. Billy Joe scrambled to his feet, stumbled into the front room.

Hannibal peered around the door frame. It was easy to follow Billy Joe's progress from the green suit and the light spilling out from the study. He fired a few shots over Billy Joe's head. Billy Joe ducked lower and lower, but still kept moving. Hannibal fired another as he stepped over Terry. Billy Joe ducked so far he fell to his knees. He used the opportunity to reach for the object of his interest. Hannibal shot the notebook, spinning it out of his grasp. Billy Joe snatched his hand back, lost his balance, fell on his side. He looked up, wide-eyed, at Hannibal.

"You won't need that where you're going," Hannibal said.

"Won't need this either." Terry was getting to his feet, pocketing Billy Joe's gun.

"Alright?"

"Bruised jaw, bruised ego." Terry touched his mouth tenderly. "That's the most excitement I've ever had. I don't think it's my cup of tea."

Hannibal chuckled.

Terry turned on the light. Billy Joe was working up the courage to sit up. Terry toed the notebook open. "Good thing we didn't need this," he commented. All of the blank pages had an off center hole, browned around the edges.

Billy Joe stared at it, glared up at Hannibal. "You just lost your friend," he said angrily. "They'll repeat the experiments on him, see just how many doses it takes before it becomes fatal."

"He's just trying to make you mad," Terry said hastily, stepping forward.

"Yeah." Hannibal put his gun back in its holster. "It worked." He pulled Billy Joe up by the collar of his suit, pulled back, let his fist fly. He felt a satisfying pain in his knuckles, let Billy Joe drop. "I don't make deals with slimebags."

Blame it on the UFOs

Face poked through the giant, now dark, garbage bag. It really was plastic of some sort, but not nearly as thin as a garbage bag would be. The rotors and flight would have torn up any regular bag. He gingerly stepped through the overlap, into the open side door of the helicopter. He wondered if the bag could smother anyone in the chopper. Certainly it wasn't a safe set up. 

"Murdock?" Face called, the thought putting more urgency in his voice than he intended. "Murdock, answer me."

"Yeah, Face?" Murdock sighed. 

Face found Murdock up front in – where else? – the pilot's seat. He was slouched in the seat, head back, eyes closed. In the light of the flood lamps, Murdock's face was drawn and not a little pale.

"All right?"

"Tired." He sounded tired.

"Well, you can have your pick of seats and sleep all you want in the van," Face said cheerfully. 

Murdock just said, "Hm." A moment later, he asked, "How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"You okay?"

Face's hand automatically went to the tender spot on the back of his head. "Yeah, just a headache."

Murdock nodded. He showed no inclination to get up. Face shifted uncomfortably.

"We were getting worried when you shut this thing off but didn't come back out," he admitted, hoping to draw Murdock out.

"Just wanted some time alone," Murdock said. "Quiet."

"Yeah." Face now understood why Murdock was hiding out. "BA told me about the do-as-I-say drug."

Murdock groaned.

"You know, this could be fun," Face said suggestively. "We could, say, make you our personal masseuse for the night."

Murdock opened his eyes. "What?"

"Yeah," Face squinted at the ceiling, considering. "We could have you do back rubs, then foot rubs, then maybe…."

"Face!"

"Lots of possibilities." Face pretended to not hear Murdock's protest. "And it wouldn't really matter how embarrassing it was for you, because you wouldn't remember a thing."

Murdock glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

Face grinned. "Moi? To you? I wouldn't dream of it."

Murdock finally smiled. He playfully slapped Face's arm.

"We're getting ready to go." Face carefully worded his next suggestion so that Murdock wouldn't feel he was taking advantage of the drug induced commands. "If you want to come, we better get out of here."

"Now?" Murdock asked hopefully.

Face chuckled. "We want to get out of here before anything else happens."

"Amen," Murdock said fervently.

On the way out, Face nearly got caught in the plastic. "Ack." He impatiently pushed it aside. "Ugly," he added. "How'd anybody think it was a UFO?"

"Would you admit to seeing a flying trash bag?" Murdock asked.

Face eyed the mock UFO distastefully. "Good point."

"But can you imagine," Murdock started with the familiar Murdock gleam in his eye, "trash bag air balloons?"

Face's brows wrinkled at the image the idea produced. 

"Where is everybody?" Murdock asked. 

Face nodded toward the moving van. "They're helping the sheriff put the…"

"What?" Murdock interrupted, startled. "The sheriff?"

Face forgot Murdock hadn't been there. "Yeah. He's the mechanic, Terry."

"Terry?" Face nodded. Murdock rubbed his addled head. "I think I'm getting a headache."

They joined the others at the moving van as BA finished his handiwork with the left over wiring. 

"I love it when we tie things up." Hannibal grinned at the very well trussed up green men. He pulled out a fresh cigar just for the occasion.

Terry smiled, then frowned. "Not completely tied up. We're still missing someone."

"Who're we missing?" Murdock asked Face while looking inside.

Face frowned. "You, Sylvie, and Wentworth, so we thought. Got you, Wentworth's involved, and we found Billy Joe." Face explained. "That leaves Sylvie."

"Oh. But she's not missing," Murdock said loud enough to be heard by the others, as well. Everyone looked at Murdock.

"What do you mean, she's not missing?" Terry demanded.

"She's the green…"

"Shut up," Billy Joe shouted over Murdock's words. Murdock went quiet with a flinch.

"Shut up," BA growled at Billy Joe. BA wished he'd gagged them while he was tying them up. "One more word and you get this," he threatened, waving a beringed fist at Billy Joe. He slammed the doors closed.

BA turned his back to the moving van and its green clad contents. "You can tell us whatever you want to, Murdock."

Murdock smiled. "Thanks, BA." Usually he'd tease the big guy about showing he cared, but Murdock wasn't in the mood. Right now, all he wanted to do was go to sleep. 

"Before you were so rudely interrupted, you were telling us about Sylvie," Face prompted.

"She's their boss. I think she went to tell her boss we messed things up. She said she'd remember us," Murdock said with an apologetic look for Hannibal. Hannibal shrugged. What was one more enemy to add to their growing collection?

"Sylvie works with them?" Terry shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"Yes, but what a set up," Face said appreciatively. "Sylvie was the perfect look out. She got to see who was coming and going while working the diner."

"Diners," Terry corrected softly. "She worked both of them."

"Even better," Face said.

"And the doc had access to drugs and records," Murdock said, seeing where Face was going.

"And Billy Joe supplied them," Face finished. "With everything, unless I miss my guess."

"An old biker." Terry looked at his feet, feeling a little ashamed. "He came and went so often, it never even occurred to me."

"He's probably the one who relayed the orders from his boss," Hannibal said. An unpleasant thought came to him. "I wouldn't be surprised if there are other places where this drug is being tested."

"But who's their boss?" Terry asked.

"I have no idea," Hannibal answered truthfully. "But when you hand them over to the State Troopers, I'm sure they'll figure it out. Maybe use their own medicine on them." Hannibal smiled at the thought.

"There's plenty of it in there." Murdock gestured over his shoulder toward the chopper.

Hannibal's grin widened even further. "Samples, notes, incriminating files. I think our green slimebags will turn state's evidence in no time." Hannibal chuckled at the pleasant thought. "Congratulations, you just put Merlott on the map."

Terry frowned apprehensively. "What?"

"Bringing down an operation like this is bound to stir up the media," Hannibal explained. 

"You'll get your face in the papers across the country," Face offered brightly. 

Hannibal cautioned, "Just don't mention us and you, and Merlott, will be famous."

Terry looked ill. "I can't take the credit for this. I mean, they wouldn't have been caught at all if it weren't for all of you."

"Uh uhn," Hannibal shook his head. "We're wanted men. Believe me, they don't take kindly to wanted men capturing felons." Hannibal pointed his cigar at Terry. "You're the sheriff, Sheriff. If you don't want the credit, fine. Tell them-" Hannibal stopped. He put the cigar back in his mouth and grinned around it. "Use their own trick. Blame it on the UFOs."

_ _ _ _

They were ten minutes past the second Marge's Diner. If Terry's directions were correct, they were fifteen minutes from a major highway. Then they would finally be on their way back to civilization and the more familiar weirdness of Los Angeles.

They drove in easy silence. Murdock, asleep in his chair behind BA, was the only one to break it, with an occasional snore. Face tried to get comfortable in his seat, rubbing absently at the ache in his side. Hannibal contemplated the glowing end of his dying cigar, and debated whether or not to light another. BA watched the road for signs of a turn off. He wasn't watching for lights flashing across the road.

BA hit the brakes, throwing everyone forward as the van skidded to a halt. There was a half second of shocked stillness. Murdock, annoyed, put himself back in his seat, muttering something about stop meaning still, not fast.

A little ways in front of the van was a light, bright and almost colorless. 

"Did we hit it?" Hannibal asked. He couldn't make out anything in the darkness beyond the light.

"No," BA said. "It moved too fast."

"There's plenty of road," Face said. "What's he waiting for?"

"Maybe to see if we're okay?" Hannibal suggested.

BA eased the van forward. The light backed away. Then, incredibly, it rose. BA hit the brakes again.

The light floated, backed away, waited.

"What is it?" Face asked. He leaned on the back of Hannibal's chair to get a better look.

Murdock bestirred himself enough to groggily ask, "What's what, Faceman?"

"That!" Face pointed out the windshield. 

Murdock opened his eyes with some effort, leaned forward to look under Face's arm. "Oh. Them."

"Them?" Another light had joined the first while Face wasn't looking. As he watched, a third streaked in from the right. "Whoa."

A fourth one joined the trio. Three drifted back to let the first one shine a little brighter.

"What do they want?"

"Probably to thank us, BA." Murdock yawned. "Told you they wanted to hire us," he murmured, his eyes sliding closed again.

Outside, the lead hovering light flared, settled into police siren red. It held the color for half a beat, flared into a white that was too bright to look at. A pause, then it flared into a police car blue. The colors were clean, without any bleed through of pink or pale blue between changes. It flared once more, changing back to its original shimmering, almost colorlessness.

It dipped noiselessly, then streaked up and backwards, leaving a check mark streak behind blinking eyes. The other three fanned out before joining the first. BA, Hannibal and Face crowded in on the windshield to watch the lights playfully perform aerial maneuvers that would have put the best of even the Thunderbirds to shame, before all four disappeared into the impossibly high distance.

~fin~

End notes: Yeah, yeah, I know, the old helicopter-posing-as-UFO trick. Couldn't help myself. Saw an old Scooby Doo cartoon using it, remembered an episode of The Fall Guy, and poof! UFO's. *g* I know there's still a loose end - I have plans for Sylvie's return. *eg* Hope you all enjoyed the ride.


End file.
